Tick, Toc, Goes the Clock
by SlverShdws
Summary: Faced with a greater threat than either side could deal with alone, the Xmen, the Brotherhood, along with Magneto and his lackeys find themselves teaming up. And no one is happy about it. FINISHED Merry Christmas
1. Bringing Down the House

            Author's note**

            This takes place immediately following "Under Lock and Key." 

            Professor Charles Xavier stared out one of the tall windows of his newly rebuilt Institute. Rain tapped insistently against the glass and lightning flashed brightly in the background. There was an ominous feeling in the air that had very little to do with the weather outside. It had been only hours since the tussle with the spider guardian and the exposure of Mesmero's plan to unleash the being that promised to bring doom upon the world. A great number of things were weighing heavily on the Professor's mind, including the presence of the man who stood not more than ten feet from him. 

            In civilian dress, Erik Magnus looked every bit as formidable as he did when he donned his attire and became Magneto. His shock white hair was vivid even in the darkness and there was a dignity in his jaw that was lacking in his son Pietro. He watched Xavier with careful eyes and though Charles could pick the thoughts from his head, he waited for the larger man to speak.

            "I don't think this is a wise idea, Charles," Magneto spoke finally. Maneuvering his wheelchair around so that he was facing his longtime rival, Xavier folded his hands on his lap.

            "I'm not entirely sure it is either, Erik," he agreed, noting the other mutant's surprise at the statement. Rolling away from the window and towards the fire that blazed in the hearth, he continued. "Undoubtedly our young charges will find great difficulty in working with each other, however dire the situation may be. Still, we have no idea as to Mesmero's location or his future plans. Finding him is of the utmost importance. Everything else must be laid aside, for now."

            From far off in the mansion there came the sound of crashing followed almost immediately by a number of small explosions. Both were followed by something entirely more frightful. Silence.

            Magneto raised one white eyebrow as he turned back to the Professor. "How long to you think it will take for them to over come their difficulties?"

            There were another series of explosions and a rumbling of the earth that was the trademark of one mutant in particular. Folding his hands once more, Xavier replied,

            "Hopefully before they bring the roof down on us."


	2. Well Kiss My Grits

            The front foyer of the Institute had an appearance very much akin to a war zone, complete with opposing sides taking cover behind various pieces of busted up furniture. On one side were several of the X-men; Scott, Jean, and Nightcrawler caught, this time, in the role of defending themselves. On the other side were the Brotherhood; Lance, Todd, and Fred, in their well-accustomed role as the aggressors. For an audience, they had Magneto's newest recruits, the steel plated Colossus and the slightly insane but always fiery Pyro. Neither one had placed any bets as to who the victor would be in this fight because both were waiting for some excuse, _any excuse, to enter the fray themselves._

            Nor did they notice that their third companion, the slick fingered Cajun they knew as Gambit, had since removed himself from battlefield. Surprising, considering the fact that he had been the one to instigate the entire ruckus, not that he would ever admit to it. But what other outcome could he possibly have been expecting when he handed the ever anal attentive Scott Summers a charged card by way of handshake? To Scott's credit, he hadn't actually retaliated. The blast from the card had unfortunately knocked his shades off and that's when all hell broke loose.

            The ensuing commotion allowed Gambit to slip away unnoticed, as had been his plan, and left him free to explore the rest of the mansion. As the finest thief on both sides of the Mississippi, he'd been in places twice as grand as this one and oh the goodies he'd manage to lay hands on. His fingers itched as he walked down the long hallways but astonishingly enough he didn't as much as crack open one door to take a peek at what lay inside.

            _Me'be Remy be losin' interest in his craft, he thought to himself. He paused briefly for a shudder. What a horrible thought, for a thief to lose his passion. Might as well turn in his lockpicks and become a lawyer. Another shudder. Who in their right mind would want to stoop to such a dishonest practice? Not Remy LeBeau, that's for certain. He'd much rather keep his thieving ways, thank you._

            Still, he found he was content to wander around without relieving the others of their materialistic burdens. (Funny how people never thanked him for that service.) It didn't take him very long to come to the conclusion that while the mansion was expansive, there wasn't much there to hold his attention. That is, until he turned a corner and found himself in what appeared to be a hospital wing.

            There were a number of fancy looking machines that beeped and whistled and there was that general feeling of a hospital. Too bright and overly sterilized. Gambit disliked hospitals; they were white sheets covering up death and decay. There were ten or so beds lined up against one wall. All were empty and neatly made save for one. Its occupant had the Cajun moving in for a closer look.

            It was a young girl and a strikingly familiar one, too. The pale face, the white streaks that stood out against a waterfall of auburn; he'd seen it before. The owner at the time had been just a tad bit livelier he recalled as he struggled slightly to bring to mind the sound of her voice. One that had been none-too-friendly, but at the same time had reminded him of the bayous back home in Louisiana.

            Curious (there wasn't anything more likely to capture his attention than a beautiful girl) he moved to the head of the bed for an even closer inspection. She lay on her side, facing away from him, one hand curled tightly around the blanket that was pinned beneath her arm. Her eyes were closed but he thought he could remember them being green. Hot with temper. 

            "Me'be cherie be waitin' for a handsome prince to wake her with a kiss, non?" he murmured aloud with a grin, enjoying the idea as it came into his head. He didn't get the chance to act on it though. No sooner had the words left his lips did she begin to stir and awaken. 

                                                            ******************

            When Rogue opened her eyes the first thing she thought was, _Thank god, the headache's gone. Then she shifted her head slightly and it came rushing back with a pounding and furious vengeance. That pissed her off. Of course, there were a lot of things in life that pissed her off. The color pink, boy bands, Jean, parking meters, people in stores that ask you four hundred times if you need help after you've told 'em no already, Jean, people who drive really slow, people who try and pass her, Jean, pretty much the rest of the population of the earth. Little things, really._

            "Aww, dammit," she muttered as she rolled onto her back and felt the sharp, nagging pain that had been there ever since the Professor had exorcised her demons, so to speak. _Ah'm startin' to wish he'd left the damn things in there. Thankfully Mr. McCoy had remembered to dim the lights in the room so she wasn't forced to squint. She'd found out early on that that only made the pain worse. It wasn't so dark though that when she turned her head slightly to the left that she couldn't see she had a visitor. A familiar one. She narrowed her eyes at him, and then winced when the action caused the throbbing in her brain to kick up._

            "What the hell are you doin' here?" she demanded, after a moment. "Ah ain't in the mood to kick yer ass right now."

            At that the dark haired mutant raised his eyebrows in a way that managed to be both charming and annoyingly cocky. "An' Gambit ain't in de mood to get his ass kicked, neither cherie," he responded in that thick drawl she remembered.

            Shifting so that she was sitting up (there was no way she was talking to him lying on her back), Rogue rolled her eyes and thanked god when the motion when unnoticed by her head. "Gambit? Is that what ya call yerself? Or did yer mama jus' not like you?"

            His eyes flashed briefly and she noticed for the first time that his irises were deep red on pools of pitch black. _Ah bet the guys who develop his pictures have a hell of a time figurin' out what they did wrong._

            "My mama, she like Gambit jus' fine. You got a name, cherie? Gambit'd sure hate fer dis to be a one-sided exchange."

            Rogue frowned and studied him while she tried to think of all the possible reasons he could be there. The Institute had exploded again. All the other X-men were drugged. The government had come and dragged them all away. Professor X had finally had enough of everyone's bickering and crushed everyone's minds into jelly. 

            "They call me Rogue," she answered when none of her explanations came close to making sense. His eyes wandered over her in a manner that was studious, but in no way polite.

            "You shore don't look like no vagabond," he stated when he was finished. She started to narrow her eyes again but caught herself.

            "You wanna know what Ah think you look like, swamp rat?" she nearly growled, pegging his accent unconsciously. The term seemed to amuse him greatly because he grinned another one of his dashingly arrogant grins.

            "Gambit not be called dat in a long time, cherie. But he be thinkin' it a bit early fer pet names, non? He shore appreciate you showin' him some southern hospitality though."

            "Ah'll give ya hospitality alright. Ah certainly owe you."

            "Rogue, it's nice to see you up." Mr. McCoy entered just in time to snag Rogue's bare head before she could wrap it around the Cajun's throat. _Lucky for me I put my gloves on ahead of time, he thought to himself. Gambit looked a bit puzzled and Beast got the feeling that he had no idea the amount of danger he had just been in. Not only from Rogue's touch, but her temper, which he could see glowing brightly in her eyes. With anyone else, Hank would have said that the irritability was a side product of the headache. With Rogue, it was a personality quirk._

            "I see you and Gambit have met," he added as he went about checking her pulse, made difficult by the gloves. Gambit grinned broadly, unaware that he was stepping into quicksand. 

            "De cherie and Gambit were jus' gettin' to know each other, better. Gambit think dey gonna be good friends," he declared.

            "Well, that's. . .nice," Hank offered, noticing a deepening gleam in his patient's eyes. She didn't look very friendly at the moment and he wondered whether or not he should warn the boy. It was possible, after all, that given a few days Rogue would cool off.

            "Ah got a feelin' you and me are gonna be real close, sugah," she replied in a falsely sugary voice. Her fingers flexed. "Real close."

            Hank sighed. Or maybe not.


	3. Who's a Psycho?

            Author's note**

            I have to apologize for my excessive use of the comma. I love the comma and consider it one of the finer forms of punctuation. I'll try and restrain myself. What else? Oh, I generally don't like to write scenes that involve more than a couple characters because it tends to get too busy. So if you have a favorite X-men that I haven't mentioned yet, fear not because I'll be throwing them all in.

            BOOM!

            The suddenly explosion went off just as Kitty was reaching for the handle to her door. It startled her enough to have her phasing through the wood and crashing into Bobby who happened to be sliding past on a patch of his own ice. They landed together in a heap of tangled limbs. Bobby decided that nothing that had ever happened to him in his life was nearly as freaky as watching Kitty pull her hand from chest. He looked down at his shirt front and shuddered.

            "That was really weird, Kitty," he stated, a little dazed. Rolling her eyes, Kitty stood up and rubbed one hand over her slightly tilted nose.

            "Like it's any fun for me." She held out a hand to him, one he gingerly accepted, and helped him up. "What was that noise anyway?" she asked, suddenly recalling what had sent her through her own door. Bobby shrugged.

            "Beats me, but it came from the front foyer. I felt the earthquake and figured Avalanche needed a little cool down," he replied, holding up his hands in the shape of two guns. Without warning he shot off two small ice balls and they crashed into the wall. Fancying himself a younger version of Dirty Harry, he blew invisible smoke away from the barrels of his fingers. Kitty frowned and turned in the direction of the foyer. Lance's behavior was a constant source of confusion for her, along with basic math and the alphabet. One minute he was acting all nice and sweet and the next he was trying to bring down buildings on everyone. Like, what was his problem anyway? The jerk. She started to turn back to Bobby to suggest they go see Lance about his cool down when the calm, slightly amused voice of the Professor stopped her.

            "Kitty, Bobby. I'm pleased to see that the two of you managed to stay out of trouble."

            With twin expressions of guilt plastered on their faces the two kids turned to see Professor Xavier wheeling down the hallway. And they both bristled when they saw Magneto only a few steps behind him. Neither said anything because there had not only been amusement in the Professor's voice, but a warning as well.

            "I'd like you two to proceed down to the hospital wing. We'll be having a meeting there. All of us," he clarified just as Kitty had begun to open her mouth. He continued, "I know it will be slightly crowded but it is important that everyone know exactly what is going on and the easier way to do that is to tell you all at the same time. Should you come across any of the others, please inform them of this."

            "Sure thing Professor," Kitty agreed while Bobby simply nodded his head. With that taken care of, the Professor continued towards the foyer hopefully with the intent to mind blast a few thick headed idiots. Magneto walked past the two teenagers without sparing either of them a glance. That gave them both the perfect opportunity to stick their tongues out at his retreating figure.

            "Man, I can't believe he's just waltzing through here like he hasn't tried to kill us all on a number of occasions," Bobby complained darkly as they started in the direction of the hospital wing. Kitty murmured her agreeance and after that they walked in silence. She got the feeling that a lot of things she would never have believed could happen were about to.

                                                            **************************

            Wanda sat in one of the many rooms of the mansion, looking out a window that was splattered with water drops. She didn't like storms though she was unable to say specifically why. Something about the rain tugged at her mind. It felt like there should be some memory, some bad memory concerning it but try as she might to uncover it she couldn't. There were no dark memories in her mind. Perhaps that's why she was suspicious. Everyone had some darkness in them. And she wanted hers. Being cheerful all the time sucked. How people could stand it was completely beyond her.

            Outside the storm was reckless and it matched her current mood. She felt restless even though she sat as still as a statue. There was something out there and it was both powerful and hungry. It pulled at her, knocking incessantly at the door to her desire. _What are you? she thought to herself. __And where can I find you?_

            Her eyes were what scared Pietro the most. Even as she sat in darkness he could see them practically glowing from his position in the doorway. Their father may have thought that Mastermind had solved all her problems, but Pietro still held his doubts. No, those eyes did not look as if the mind lurking behind them was all together sane. She may have been happier, and may have no longer hated him or their father, but she certainly wasn't playing with a full deck of cards. Somewhere along the line, Wanda had lost a good deal of her marbles and he lived in terror of the day she came to realize that.

            "What do you want?" he heard her ask without turning around. She didn't need to. His reflection was in the window. Pietro gulped because he thought he heard a layer of anger in her voice. And he had. It was always there.

            "We'vebeencalledintoameeting," he answered in one explosive breath. If Wanda was annoyed by his nearly unintelligible reply, she didn't show it. Instead she turned her head slightly to the right and asked,

            "All of us?"

            He nodded quickly. "All of us," he confirmed.

            Very slowly Wanda rose to her feet, her long coat fluttering about her legs. She continued to stare out the window for a long moment and Pietro wasn't sure if she would come with him. Then she shifted and pinned him with that wild gaze of hers and made him very happy that his power allowed him to run like hell should he need to. And he was almost certain he was going to need to. But she surprised him, as unpredictable people often do.

            "Finally," she replied as if she wanted nothing more than to attend a meeting full of people she disliked. With a walk that was both graceful and a little scary, she glided past him into the hallway. Stunned, he could only stare. When he failed to move, she stopped and shot him a pointed look.

            "Lead the way, brother."


	4. So, Tell Me About This End of the World,...

            Author's Note**

                        Mystique probably won't be showing up for a while and neither will Wolverine since he's supposed to be out looking for her. I'll cut to the two of them later but right now I want to get life at the Institute settled first.

            Twenty minutes later the hospital wing of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Students was chock full of mutants. Not exactly an ideal situation considering tempers were still fuming. Behind the ruby lenses of his glasses Scott narrowed the brown eyes that no one present had ever seen before. Across the room from him Gambit smiled and tipped his hand in an insulting gesture. A card appeared between his index and middle finger. _First chance I get I'm going to burn those stupid things, Scott thought to himself_

            The close quarters were felt keenly by everyone and discomfort was probably the only thing they all had in common. Angel folded his wings as tightly to his back as he could manage but there was no getting around the fact that they took up a large amount of space. He glanced over his shoulder and frowned.

            "If you get any of your slime on my wings Tolansky, I swear I'll drop you off a cliff somewhere."

            "If you keep your bird feathers outta my face there won't be any slime on them," Todd muttered in response. Nonetheless he shifted away from them and went back to cradling his head in his arms. The persuasive "tap" that Xavier had given to restore order in the foyer had left him with a bugger of a headache. Lance looked a lot like he was suffering from the same thing; he was scowling at the floor. Then again maybe he was just pissed off at the floor. Fred had been the lucky one. No brains, no pain.

            Wanda had chosen to sit down on Rogue's bed, something Pietro found amusing in a frightening kind of way. Two of the best looking and most untouchable girls of the group. Rogue wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation mostly because she wasn't comfortable when anyone got within a five foot radius of her. She wished that she had on a shirt with longer sleeves or at least her gloves.

            "Look, jus' be careful alright?" she said to Wanda. "Ah'd rather not have any of yer thoughts in mah head. No offense."

            "None taken. I like my thoughts where they are."

            The two smiled at each other, seemingly on the same wavelength. Pietro shuddered again. Scary, they've bonded.

            All the others were simply standing around waiting. The fact that everyone was so close made it impossible to talk really; anything you said would be heard by someone. The younger students did their best to restrain from amusing themselves with their powers. After all, they didn't want a repeat performance of the front foyer. Bobby had made himself a checker board out of ice but that was about it.

            Alternating between glaring at Lance and chewing her gum, Kitty felt more and more impatient as time wore on.

            "Like, where's the Professor?" she asked finally. Perched on the counter beside her, Kurt shrugged his blue shoulders.

            "He vas right behind us," he answered. Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest.

            "I hope he gets here soon. It's like way too crowded in here."

            "I know a way to make it uncrowded," Lance stated suddenly, looking up from his scowling match with the floor. A light trembling followed his words.

            "Uncrowded isn't a word Alvers and bringing down the mansion on our heads isn't going to make anyone more comfortable," Scott retorted, leaning against the wall in an unconscious mimic of Gambit's posture. Straightening as if Scott had just said his mother was as ugly as a buck toothed horse, Lance held out a fist towards him threateningly.

            "You got a problem with my language Summers?"

            "What if I do?" Scott asked, putting a hand up to his glasses.

            "I believe that that is enough boys."

            Like so many times before, the Professor's calm voice quickly diffused the explosive nature of the conflict. He rolled into the cramped room and surveyed the scene before him. With the exception of Wanda and Rogue, the room had effectively been split in half; X-men on one side, the self proclaimed Bad Asses on the other. Each side glared at the other with open hostility. _This will not be an easy undertaking, he thought. __It would probably be best to simply be blunt and firm._

            "We have a serious situation on our hands and there will be no time to indulge in personal feuds." The Professor's eyes were stern as he looked around the room. "I do not expect you all to become the best of friends but I do expect you to put the welfare of the world and existence above your personal feelings. We know very little about the mutant that Mesmero is seeking to unleash, but we do know it is extremely powerful. Our lives, _all our lives," he emphasized meaningfully, "are at stake here. There is a great deal of work to be done and a massive amount of ground to cover and only by working together will we be able to stop this threat. We need to discover the location of this mutant and Mesmero, what Mesmero's plans are exactly, and what his next step is. We have only what Mastermind has pulled from his mind and that information leads me to believe we have very little time. I expect your full cooperation." His eyes scanned the room again. "Now, are there any questions?"_

            There was a collective murmuring but only one hand lifted. 

            "What about the Morlocks?" Jean questioned. To the left of the Professor, Storm flinched slightly at the name and the first thought on everyone's mind was Evan. Xavier lifted one eyebrow and waited for Jean to continue. "Well, one of those mutants has the ability to locate other mutants, right?"

            "Caliban," Wanda clarified out loud.

            Jean nodded and tossed her long red hair over her shoulder. "If we want to find Mesmero, he might be helpful."

            Nodding, Xavier folded his hands in front of his chin. "Yes, you're right. Their leader may prove to be unwilling but perhaps we will be able to convince her of the importance."

            "I will convince her," Storm promised with an uncharacteristic flash of temper in her eyes.

            "That is all then. The younger students should retire, as they will be attending school tomorrow. I would like the older students, and our guests, to remain."

            Amongst groans of disappointment the younger students filed out of the room. There was a moment or two of confusion when someone bumped the pint sized Jamie and half a dozen of him toppled out. Once they had cleared out, there was a little more space. Just a little.

            "Now," Xavier began again. "As I said before, we have a tremendous amount of ground to cover and a small amount of time to do it in. Therefore you will be split into pairs and assigned tasks. It is important for you to focus on those tasks."

            "Hey, tell that to them. They're the ones who keep trying to kick the crap out of us," Scott protested, jerking his thumb towards the Brotherhood and the three other mutants.

            "Monsieur, have we hurt chore feelin's?" Gambit asked mocking, carelessly rifling his cards through his hands. 

            _I'm going to burn every single one of them, Scott thought menacingly._

            "There will be no further incidents," Magneto warned, speaking for the first time. The gaze he leveled at Gambit was enough to have the Cajun shrugging and putting his cards away. For good measure the master of magnetism sent an equally cool look to the Brotherhood members and they shuffled their acceptance as well.

            _I have a feeling that is the best we can hope for, Xavier thought to himself. To the group, he said,_

            "Good. Now for your assignments."


	5. How DO Those People Get Inside the TV?

            Author's Note**

                        The characters being split up into pairs are the older ones, which include Angel, Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, Cyclops, Jean, Storm, Beast, Rogue, Wanda, Toad, Blob, Avalanche, Colossus, Pyro, and Gambit. Uneven right? Ah, the mystery behind it all. As for the younger crew, well somebody has to pick up the X-men slack, right?

            No one protested their assignments. That's not to say that nobody _wanted to protest them, they were just held in check by the steely look in the Professor's eyes and the obviously threatening manner of Magneto. Rogue had a feeling she knew why the Professor had teamed her up with Wanda; if she were the boss, she wouldn't want Miss Psychopath running amuck in the world either. Lord only knows what kind of catastrophic destruction the girl could bring about if she happened to get pissed off. And that fact made Rogue have to respect her. After all, if you're gonna blow things up, then you might as well blow up as many things as you can._

            Trailing Storm out the door, Gambit shot Rogue a final parting grin and a wave, both which gave her reason to frown. _That boy's gonna need a few smacks, preferably with somethin' blunt and heavy. And about the head area. With an expression that did not look particularly interested, Wanda turned her head and noted,_

            "He seems to have taken a liking to you."

            Rogue rolled her eyes. "Great. If Ah gave a damn Ah might have jumped outta this bed an' done a little dance for ya."

            Just as she said that, Todd hopped past with Kurt who looked none too happy about the pairing. The toad like teenager gave Wanda the goofiest love stricken grin one could imagine, then stepped on the cuff of his jeans and fell flat on his face. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Wanda sighed.

            "Just remember that it could be worse."

            Rogue glanced down with sympathy at Todd. He looked like he was probably seeing tweety birds. "Ah hear ya."

                                                            ************************************

            As Kitty walked down the hall away from the hospital wing, she felt a tiny bit like she had some huge lumbering figure following behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she thought _well duh, I totally do have a huge lumbering figure behind me. She didn't know exactly how she felt about having him as a partner; he seemed to be the strong silent type. Because she couldn't bear the thought of any amount of time passing without some kind of conversation, she smiled weakly at him and asked,_

            "So, what's your name?"

            His eyes, which had been dutifully scanning the various pictures on the walls they passed, glanced down at her and he seemed surprised to hear her speak.

            "Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin," he answered after a moment in a heavy accent. Kitty withheld a sigh. _I'm like always getting stuck with boys who can't speak English good._

            "Whoa, does that like come with a translation?" she asked. 

            He frowned a little as if he didn't quite understand her question. Then his brows cleared and, much to her amazement, he nodded his head and smiled. She didn't think bad guys could smile. But then, she also couldn't figure out how all those people fit inside the television.

            "Peter is my name. The others know me as Colossus," he clarified. As he walked his large shoulder bumped into one of the paintings on the wall and knocked it down. He reached out one hand to grasp the frame and in doing so, cracked the wood with his strength.

            "I am sorry," he stated immediately, another surprise. "I am . . . clumsy."

            Kitty decided right then that all bad guys couldn't be bad and besides, the sorrowed look on his face made him kind of cute.

            "Nah, you're just big," she corrected, taking the frame from his hands and leaning it up against the wall. "Don't worry about it. Someone's always breaking something in this place." As if on cue, there was the sound of glass shattering, followed by an "ooops" that sounded very much like Fred. _Angel will have a heck of a time dropping him off a cliff, Kitty thought. To Peter, she smiled warmly and added, "See?"_

                                                                        **************************

            Lance glared so hard at Scott's retreating back that it was a wonder the optically challenged boy didn't spontaneously combust. Now THAT, Lance would have found amusing, especially if Summers' stuck up girlfriend caught on fire too. Speaking of fire he glanced over at the freckled face dude Xavier had stuck him with. If anyone in that group had a chance at being more mentally unbalanced than Wanda it was this guy. His eyes wandered around the room in a way that made Lance think the guy was seeing things that weren't actually there. And he had this annoying habit of giggling a little every so often. _Well it could be worse, he thought, __though not by much. I could've been stuck with Summers. Still, that didn't mean he had to like the situation. Nearly growling, he turned to the fiery haired boy next to him and introduced himself._

            "I'm Lance. Call me Avalanche."

            The boy giggled, but Lance took it as insanity and not an insult. "Avalanche, eh? No worries mate, I'll rememba. I'm Pyro though me mum calls me St. John."

            Lance frowned; he had a little trouble deciphering the Aussie's statement. Once he had, his frown deepened.

            "Don't you have to die to become a Saint?" he asked belligerently.

            St. John didn't seem at all bothered by the sarcasm for some reason. Oh, that's right. He's insane. "So tell me mate, why is it you look like you'd like to drop somethin' nice and heavy on Shades over there?"

            "He's a prick."

            "Oh, right." St. John's eyes seemed to light up. "Why don't we go have ourselves a barbeque then?" He shot a line of flame from one of his throwers and it took the form of an outside grill complete with steaks of fire. Lance shook his head, even though there wasn't anything he thought he would enjoy more.

            "No, you heard Magneto. No more in house fighting." He grinned as inspiration struck. "But he didn't say that we could burn all of one eyes' clothes. Let's go."

                                                                        ***************************

            Beast watched the two natural disaster prone teens go running off to pillage Scott's closet and sighed. 

            "We're going to need more fire extinguishers," he said to no one in particular. Turning, he headed back to the hospital wing, making himself a list as he went.

            "And first aid kits. And insurance. All kinds of insurance. And groceries. And . . ."

                                                                        ***************************

            Gambit was a bit surprised when the white haired woman led him to a room, then closed and locked the door. She looked like she had something on her mind that she wanted to talk about and the possibilities made him a little uneasy. Sure, there was no question that she was beautiful but he thought that that white hair would make him feel like he was romancing a grandma. And that thought had any bit of mojo he might have mustered up flying straight out the window. Luckily though, his fears went unrealized as Storm was not there to molest him in any way.

            "I know what you are, child."

            A raised eyebrow was the only sign of his annoyance at having been called a child. "An' what is it dat you think Gambit be, Madame?" he asked with all his normal swagger. In response, Storm lifted her right hand and flicked her fingers in a manner that would have seemed foreign to anyone else. But Gambit's red eyes flashed with surprise, though he recovered from it quickly.

            "Now, where would a Madame such as yoreself pick up somethin' like dat?" Unconsciously he pulled out his deck and rifled them through his fingers.

            "From a man in New Orleans named Jean-Luc. Have you heard of him?"

            This time there was no outward flicker of surprise from him. Outside he remained casual though inside his mind was racing.

            "'Dere be a lot of Jean-Lucs in the bayous, oui." But he knew exactly which one she was referring to. By the look in her eyes, he could tell she knew that. She pressed further.

            "This one was the head of a thieves guild."

            Pulling out his most charming grin, Gambit spread his hands and shook his head innocently. "Gambit don't know any d'ieves. Me'be you thinkin' of another town, no?"

            To his relief, she appeared to back down. "Maybe," she replied, heading past him towards the door. Blowing out a quiet breath, Gambit decided he had a number of things to think about. Especially if anyone else there knew about his dealings with the underground of Louisiana. 

            "Gambit?" Storm called from door, startling him. He turned his head slightly towards her and waited.

            "I know what you are," she repeated. "And should you decide one day to trade your life now for one with the X-men, know that it can be done."

            And with that she left.


	6. There's Just No Getting Around it

            Author's Note**

                        I get a kick out of writing these little notes. Anyway, I seem to have made a mistake and left our white haired buddy Pietro out of the pairings.  . . or was it not a mistake at all? Muwahah...okay I'm done with that.

            In another room in the mansion, unbeknownst to the X-men but beknownst to us, Pietro Maximoff stood before his father with knees that nearly knocked together. He had no idea what Magneto wanted and that made him nervous. There was no father-son bond between the two; the color of their hair was the only thing they shared. It amazed Pietro that he hadn't been able to convince Wanda of that. Magneto may not have locked him away in a crazy house, but that didn't mean they had attended Boy Scout meetings together. Which had been a huge disappointment to Pietro who still carried in his heart the desire to become a member of the blue uniformed troop. The thought of it brought a pout to his lips.

            Frowning deeply, Magneto stared down at his boy and shook his head slightly. His children, needless to say, hadn't grown up quite as he had hoped they would have. One of them had continuously tried to kill him, forcing him to rearrange her memories. One did have to admire her persistence though. When she got her mind wrapped around an idea she was like a bloodhound on a piece of raw steak. It really was too bad she was crazy. Took after her mother like that.

            The other child . . . well, there wasn't any use sugar coating things. The other child had the brains of a sea monkey. He had made certain that Xavier hadn't paired him up with anyone for one very important reason. He did not want the annoying brat to screw up and bring about the end of the world. After all, he couldn't very well control the world if there wasn't any world to control, now could he?

            "Pietro," Magneto began, choosing his words carefully. "I have a very special job for you. It entails a great many things, all of which bear immeasurable importance to our mission here."

            The white haired teen smiled gleefully; nothing pleased him more than being reminded of his own importance. 

            "I can take care of it no problem. What do you want me to do? Sabotage? Spying? BloodGutsMurderMayhem?" he buzzed almost unintelligently, his eyes widening like saucers. Magneto stared blankly at him for a few second. Okay, so maybe BOTH of his children were wack jobs. That's the last time he picked up a chick at a mental institute.

            "No. . . these tasks are far more subtle. They need to be accomplished in a particular order, so I will be giving them to you one at a time. Do you think you can handle that?" He let some of his many doubts creep into his voice and saw the desired effect in his son. The boy puffed out his chest and nodded his head so quickly it was a wonder it didn't fall off. THAT would have saved the world a whole lot of trouble.

            "I can do it! Just leave it to me," Pietro boasted.

            "Good." Reaching onto the table behind him, Magneto picked up a bundle of envelopes held together with a rubber band. With a serious and stern expression etched onto his face, he held them out to his son, who accepted them with no small amount of confusion. "You need to deliver one letter to a different post office. Only post offices with the number five in their address. It is very important that every one of those letters gets to a different office. And no one must see you."

            Pietro looked down at the plain white envelopes for a long moment. Delivering letters seemed like a pretty stupid task to him. But then why would Magneto give him a stupid task? Him, Pietro? Quicksilver no less! No, there must be some urgency behind it all, some great dark sinister plan! One that only he, with his amazing speed and chiseled good looks could carry out! He was going to need a phone book. Nodding firmly to his father, he took off in a flash and the wind that marked his exit blew a single lock of Magneto's hair back from his face. The master of all things metal shook his head.

            "Dumb as a stump," he lamented. A moment later, from elsewhere in the mansion there came a blood curdling, high pitched, down-right girlish scream.

            "WHO THE HELL BURNED ALL MY CLOTHES?"

            Magneto sighed. "The world is doomed."


	7. Sometimes You Take Matters Into Your Own...

Author's Note**

                        Okay, as with the comma, I'm slightly obsessed with crazy people. Just a mild warning.

            The next morning the youngsters of the Institute made their way through the doors of Bayville High, deeply annoyed that their older counterparts got to skip. Saving the world from evil, blah, blah, blah. It sure sounded like a cheesy ass excuse to them. Bobby Drake was the most irritated out of everyone. Hadn't he proven his worth at the museum with his mad skills? Wasn't he good enough to join the big bad X-team? Apparently not since they had snubbed him, basically telling him to go run off and play with the other kiddies. He'd show them one day. He'd show them all. All of them. ALL OF THEM!

            "Hey Bobby, you okay?"

            Blinking at the sound of a voice, Bobby brought himself back down to earth. Sam was looking at him with a dubious expression plastered across his face.

            "Yeah, I was just thinking about something, Cannon," Bobby answered turning to walk beside his fellow mutant. Sam raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything more about it. If Bobby was pissed off about something, he didn't want to end up in a block of ice because he had asked about it. The two of them entered the cafeteria where they found Roberto and Amara sitting at a table by themselves. All the tables surrounding them were empty as everyone else in the room crowded together, giving the two teens a ten foot radius. Bobby and Sam joined them.

            "Hey, how lousy is it that the others get ta stay at home, while we get fed to the sharks here?" Roberto asked the moment the two sat down. Frowning again, Bobby tossed his bagged lunch up onto the table and folded his arms around it. 

            "Tell me about it," he muttered darkly.

            "Yeah, what happen to that whole, 'only by working together can we defeat this evil' bit the Professor was talking about?" Amara stated, poking at her sandwich and trying to ignore the fact that a number of people were staring at them. It had been a couple months now since they had been ousted. She wished people would just get over it. 

            Sam snapped open his can of pop and shrugged, partly in response to the itch he had between his shoulder blades. He wasn't fond of all the looks either. 

            "I guess he doesn't think we're far enough along to handle something so important."

            The four of them sat in silence, picking at their lunches but not actually in the mood to eat. It wasn't bad enough that practically the entire population of Bayville disliked and distrusted them, but now even their own Professor wasn't casting his vote of confidence in them. Jeepers, it was enough to make a mutant teen want to go on a power rampage through the village, maiming innocent bystanders. All that stood in their way would be crushed. ALL!! ALL!! ALL, I SAY!!

            "Bobby, are you listening?"

            Startled out of his rambling thoughts, Bobby found that the rest of the small group was staring at him strangely. That's when he noticed he had his hands raised as if he were going to start shooting off ice bullets. Embarrassed, he lowered them and cleared his throat.

            "Ah, I'm sorry. What did you say?"

            "I said don't you think it stinks that we have to start Danger Room runs while the others are off chasing bad guys?" Amara repeated.

            The words 'Danger Room' sparked something in Bobby's brain. Excited, he leapt up from his seat and slammed his hands down on the table.

            "Oh my god, I'VE GOT IT!" he proclaimed loudly. The rest of the cafeteria fell eerily quiet and the few people that hadn't been directing their attention to the mutants before, did so now. Embarrassed again by the strength of his outburst, Bobby slowly lowered back down into his seat and waited for the noise level to resume. Roberto, Amara, and Sam all looked at him as if he had grown a third head and it had just started speaking in Mandarin. Mike's makes a hard lemon iced tea? You bet.

            Once some of the heat had been taken off of them, Bobby leaned forward over the table. "Okay listen. The Professor is sending all those other guys out after that Mesmero guy, right? He's going to want them focusing on that. But what if Cerebro locates more mutants? Someone's going to have to go recruit them, right?"

            The other three all exchanged considering looks. "And you think that that someone is going ta be us?" Roberto asked. Bobby bobbed his head enthusiastically.

            "Hell yeah! I mean, think about it. All we'd have to do would be to go find whoever it was, talk to them, and see if they want to join up. Minimum danger but still important. We can handle that."

            There was a collective agreement in the group. Sam patted Bobby on the back and grinned.

            "You're a genius Bobby."

            Soaking it up, Bobby leaned back and nodded his head coolly. "That's why they call me Iceman."

            Silence. Everyone paused and looked at him. He didn't notice.

            "Uh. . . Bobby?"

            "What?" Bobby asked absently, basking in the glory of his genius. He was THE man baby. Oh yeah. The ICEman. Respect it. RESPECT IT MAN!

            "What the hell does the fact that people call you Iceman have to do with you being smart?" Roberto inquired. Rolling his eyes, Bobby sent him a look he borrowed from Kitty's book; the duh look.

            "Spot, I don't expect you to understand something so uniquely complicated."

            Roberto arched an eyebrow. "Bobby, I've got a hundred and five average in advanced placement chemistry. There ain't anything too complicated for me. You, on the other hand, can't even spell complicated," he pointed out. Furrowing his brows together Bobby strained his brain.

            "K-o-m," he began, then paused and thought some more. Then he glared at Roberto. "Jerk."


	8. That's How You Keep A Crazy Person Calm

            Author's Note**

                        Rahne and Jubilee won't ever being showing up because their parents yanked them out of the Institute early off in the season. Now they're living the good life in the beautiful San Fernando Valley. As for the others, their lives were tragically cut short when a Twinkie truck crashed into their school bus. Kidding. They'll be around.

            "Do we know anything about this guy Mesmero's lookin' fer Mr. McCoy?" 

            Hank looked from the computer screen and glanced over at the Southern Belle who sat in front of another monitor just a few feet from him. At the moment she was squinting at her screen and rubbing the side of her temple. She had announced that morning that her headache "was all but gone." He had been less than certain but since she had threatened to suck the very life force out of him if he didn't let her out of that hospital bed, he had acquiesced. Now she and Wanda were helping him search through archives of history. Or at least Rogue was. Wanda was busy staring out the windows at something. Well, it  certainly was a step up from her going around killing people.

            "Not very much Rogue," he replied, watching columns of information scroll down the screen. "From the information Mastermind was able to gather it is a substantially powerful and, suggesting from the age of the "keys" Mesmero has hunted down, ancient mutant. Mesmero seemed to refer to it as Apocalypse."

            Rogue rolled her green eyes and sunk down further in her chair. "Very biblical. Ya sup'ose he's got himself four horseman locked up with 'em?" The information in front of her was slightly blurred. Okay, so she hadn't been completely honest with Mr. McCoy that morning. Her head still throbbed like a bitch, but she just couldn't take any more of lying around doing nothing. Plus she wanted to be ready in case that Cajun came around again. She didn't think he would; he hadn't _looked stupid after all. But then again, Kitty didn't look stupid either and Rogue had tried to explain to the younger girl a hundred times that the people weren't __actually inside the television._

            Hank chuckled softly and pushed his glasses further up his nose so he could read a passage on his screen.

            "I suppose anything's possible. Mastermind also said that he saw pictures of a cave with a number of ancient relics in it. The kind one would imagine finding in Greece or Rome, or some other pre-A.D civilization," he continued, unconsciously slipping into his lecture tone. 

            "Well great. That narrows it down a bit. There can't be more'n fifty billion caves like that in the world."

            "It's just going to take a little patience and a little bit of determination,' Hank said. 

            Folding her arms in front of her chest, Rogue blew her white bangs out of her face. "Mah two strong suits." Scowling slightly, she spun around in her chair and glanced at Wanda who stood in front of the windows with her back to them both.

            "Hey Wanda, how 'bout puttin' yer psychotic episode on hold and helpin' us out here?" Rogue wasn't particularly worried about pissing Wanda off. She was never particularly worried about pissing anyone off.

            But Wanda didn't have the opportunity to be angered by the statement. She simply hadn't heard it. Something much stronger and much louder than Rogue's voice currently held her ear. It had started off so softly, so quietly that she had barely been able to hear it. That's when she had gotten up and gone over to the window. The closer she had gotten, the clearer the voice had become. 

            _Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. I've something important to tell you._

_            So tell me, she thought, staring out at the lawn without seeing any of it._

            _I can't. Not now. Not here._

_            Then when? And where?_

_            Tonight. In the woods. I will find you._

_            How will I know you? she wanted to know. Something like quiet laughter sounded in her brain._

            _You will know me. Then the voice was gone and it was replaced by the vaguely annoyed Rogue. _

            "Wanda? Do ya do this intentionally to freak people out?"

            Frowning, Wanda turned and faced her auburn haired partner. "Do I do what intentionally?" she asked.

            Rogue waved her hand through the air absently. "Go off inta weird trances," she clarified. 

            Pursing her lips, Wanda considered the question for a moment. "Yes, sometimes," she responded finally. "It makes Pietro cry like a scared little school girl. Therefore it's a large part of my personal amusement."

            For a minute or two Rogue studied Wanda silently, her face a visage of thought. Then she said what was on her mind. "Ya know what Wanda? If ya weren't all . . . well, insane and Ah hadn't been emotionally scarred by mah bitch of an adoptive mother, we could probably be friends."

            It was at that moment that the dashing Cajun known as Gambit made his entrance. He'd been on his way to the front foyer to meet Madame Storm when he passed the room and noticed his green eyed belle was up and about. With his steel Bo in one hand and his favorite easy going grin on his handsome face, he sauntered into the room to work his magic once more. When Rogue turned her chair around and saw him, he dipped into a low bow.

            "Where y'at dis fine mornin', cherie?" The traditional New Orleans greeting made her want to smile but she clamped down on the urge. Instead she rolled her eyes and resisted beating her head on her keyboard, another urge. Casting her gaze up towards the ceiling, she asked,

            "Why God? Why me? Haven't Ah suffered enough?" Then she brought her eyes back down and glared at him. "What do ya want, swamp rat?"

            Despite her decidedly unfriendly tone, Gambit's grin never faltered and he pressed a hand to his chest, right above his heart. "Why cherie, de way ya talk jus' makes Gambit's heart go pity-pat, oui." When she continued to glare at him, he pressed his luck like a man jumping off a plane into an active volcano. "Gambit jus' come by ta see 'bout a goodbye kiss fer good luck?"

            The heat in her eyes lasted several moments longer and then abruptly her expression changed and she smiled warmly. 

            "Why, shore thing, Cajun. You jus' come right over here and get it," she invited sweetly, batting her eyelashes. At his computer, Hank sighed and waited to see what the young man would do. Looking well pleased with himself, and completely unaware of the danger he was walking into, Gambit started forward. He didn't catch the devious gleam in Rogue's eyes. Just as he began to his head down, there came an announcement over the mansion's intercom system.

            _"Gambit, please report to the front foyer immediately."_

_            Gambit said something short and curt in French and straightened. Rogue lifted an eyebrow. "Ya kiss yer mama with that mouth, sugah?"_

            He was halfway to the door when she spoke and when he turned around, his red eyes were curious. "De cherie speaks French, non?"

            "There ain't no other language, is there?"

            His grin was quick. "Non, belle 'dere shore ain't."

            Once he had left, Hank turned to Rogue and shook his head. "Rogue, you remember what the Professor said."

            Rogue glanced over at him and frowned. "What? Ah was jus' bein' friendly," she retorted. 

            "I wouldn't call knocking someone unconscious a friendly act."

            She shrugged. "How do ya know? He might like it. Looks like the type anyway."


	9. The Secret To Running Amuck

            Author's Note**

                        Rats. I ran out of Author's Notes…..

            Scott Summers watched as Remy swaggered into the foyer with that stupid ass smirk of his stretched across his stubbled face. He didn't know precisely why the Cajun irked him so much. It might have been the fact that he was an outsider, and one of Magneto's lackeys. He certainly didn't trust him. But then, it might have been the fact that he had facial hair, something Scott, at eighteen, still couldn't get to grow. Frowning, he rubbed at his smooth jaw. Jean said that his face felt as soft as a baby's bottom and it was cute. Scott, however, was not happy that any part of his body felt like an ass. And what the hell was Jean doing going around touching baby asses? Hello, pedophile?

            It pissed him off that Remy had been given the assignment to go track down the Morlocks. The fact that he was going along with Storm should have brought him some comfort except Storm seemed to be quite taken with the guy. She practically treated him like he was a long lost son or something. Jeebers! What ever happened to loyalty, and sticking with your own kind? All the basic commandments of the Sharks? WHEN DID THIS TURN INTO WEST SIDE STORY?

            "Bye now, monsieur. You be shore to miss Gambit, eh?" Remy said as he passed Cyclops. He made a little kissing noise for an added bonus, just to see the boy's face match the color of his shades. Near the front door Storm made a noise in her throat and Gambit smiled charmingly at her. 

            "Gambit be coming, Madame. Everybody shore in a hurry up here."

            Scott clenched his fists at his sides to keep them from ripping off his shades and blasting the Southern in the back. He had several suspicions as to who had broken into his room last night and burned all his clothes. The minute he found out who it had been, he was going to put that someone through the kind of torture that would make the Spanish Inquisition look like a picnic in the park with Barney the friggin' purple dinosaur. God, he hoped it had been Gambit. 

            Since he didn't have any other clothes, and he had managed to spill food on the things he had been wearing last night, he had been forced to steal some of Wolverine's threads. The tee-shirt he had on now was at least three sizes too big for him and the jeans, while comfortable, were six inches too short. They practically came up to his knees. He felt like one of those skater punk dudes, minus the skateboard and the attitude. Plus if Logan came back and caught him in his clothes, he was going to beat the living shit out of him. _Man, the things I take up the ass for the team, Scott thought to himself darkly, still scowling at Gambit's retreating figure. _

            "You have to at least try and get along with him Scott," Jean pointed out as she came up along side him. She looked him over and sighed inwardly. _Jesus, this is the guy I gave __Duncan__ up for? What the hell was I thinking? He looks like a dorky version of Tony Hawk._

            Folding his arms across his chest, and trying his best to look serious in his goofy outfit, Scott replied, "No I don't. I just have to not kill him. Why did the Professor send him on this mission instead of us?  I mean, how much can we trust these guys?"

            "There will be other missions Scott. Don't worry so much about that. There are more important things to deal with. Storm will keep Gambit in line. I think she knows something about him that we don't."

            Not entirely placated, Scott continued to frown slightly. "Like what? How he spent the first fifteen years of his life in a prison somewhere?"

            Smiling Jean watched as Gambit and Storm exited the mansion. "He doesn't look like the type who would get caught."

            Swinging his head around, Scott narrowed his eyes at her behind his glasses. "What's that supposed to me? Are you getting a thing for him or something? He burned my clothes!"

            Patting his arm lightly, Jean began to lead him away. "He didn't burn your clothes Scott. Pyro did that. We'll buy you some new ones," she stated, before he could interrupted. "First we need to go see the Professor."

            Still not sure, Scott allowed himself to be tugged along. "Well. . .okay I guess."

                                                ***********************************

            Kurt Wagner never in a million years thought that there was anything in the world that could spoil his appetite. He had contented himself with the fact that he would simply always be hungry. And even when he didn't think he was hungry, he'd still probably find something to eat, just for the hell of it. The others had given him the nickname "the Human Garbage Disposal" and it was a title he carried with great pride. Nothing could possible stand in the way of his stomach. Or so he had thought.

            He'd been wrong. He'd been very, very wrong. Because something was standing in the way of it right that moment. And that something was a dirty, unwashed mutant named Todd Tolansky, affectionately known also as Toad. Watching Toad eat was a lot like watching the first thirty minutes of Saving Private Ryan. There was stuff flying all over the place and bodily fluids dripping out. Kurt looked down at his sandwich and swallowed, feeling his stomach lurch violently in a number of directions.

            Todd took a moment from his scavenging and looked up at the furry blue elf who sat across from him. Actually, he was starting to look a bit greenish. "Yo elf. Whatsmatter with you? You look like you're gonna spew," he stated blunted, licking his lips with his long tongue. Kurt made a gagging noise and teleported out and to the nearest bathroom, hoping it was unoccupied. Todd shrugged and went back to eating. "I guess he had to spew."

            A few minutes later Fred came pounding in, his intent clearly written on his pudgy face. His sole destination was the refrigerator and God help the one who came between him and it. He did, however, pause for a moment at Kurt's sandwich. Just long enough to toss it into his big mouth. 

            Finished with his own lunch, Todd reached for a napkin and daintily wiped at his mouth. After all, his mama had certainly taught him manners. "So," he began, leaning back in his chair and watching Blob try and squeeze his large arms into the fridge. "How are things going with Fairy Boy? You guys bonded yet?"

            No sooner had the words left his mouth did someone smack him across the back of his head. He lurched forward and nearly fell out of his chair as his assailant passed untouched behind him.

            "It's Angel. Remember it. I hear you call me Fairy Boy again and I'll tie your tongue to a metal rod and hang you out during a lightning storm."

            With his head inside the ice box Fred gave a loud snort while Todd rubbed at his head and scowled at Angel's wings. Then he turned his glare on Fred's Mac Truck of a back.

            "Shut up Fred. You don't even get it."

            Fred pulled his head out, along with an entire frozen pizza. "I do so!" he protested, his chubby features screwed up in indignation. He thought for a moment and then became inordinately confused. "Wait, wha?"

                                                **************************************

            "And this is Scott's convertible. He like, doesn't let anyone else but Jean drive it," Kitty explained to Peter with a bit of sour expression on her face. She was remembering, exactly, the look on Scott's face when she had asked him if she could take his car out. There had been laughter, a lot of laughter actually, followed by a no, followed by more laughter. Oh, but she had gotten even. One more voodoo doll to add to the collection. Pain is the ultimate equalizer.

            Peter gave the car a careful inspection, and then shrugged his big shoulders. He didn't understand why people felt the need to box themselves up in metal tanks. Maybe it was because he was something of a metal tank himself.

            "It is . . . nice," he decided was the word he wanted. "But I prefer something with two wheels."

            Kitty's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's right! You've got a motorcycle like Mr. Logan. Like, what's it like driving one of those?" she asked. She'd never been on a motorcycle. Mr. Logan's reaction to her request to ride with him one day had been similar to Scott's. Men are such bastards. 

            Pleased that she seemed interested, Peter headed in the direction of his bike and did his best to describe the sensation of being on two wheels. "It is like . . . flying. Nothing keeping wind from you. It is. . ," he frowned as he searched for the phrase. He smiled suddenly and added, "It is only way to travel. You would like ride, yes?" He held his hand out towards the gleaming black motorcycle. 

            Her eyes widened and she gave a little squeal. "Like, that would be so cool. Oh," her face fell almost immediately, "but we're like supposed to be going after that Mesmero guy."

            Swinging one well muscled leg over his bike, Peter reached for his helmet and held it out to her. "We cannot look for him if we do not know where he is, yes?"

            Seeing the logic in that, Kitty didn't hesitate in jumping on behind him. "Like, where do I put my hands?" she asked, shoving the helmet onto her head, for once not minding that her hair was being messed up.

            "There are bars on side," he answered, bringing down the kick start with his foot. With a firm kick and a twist of his wrist, he brought the metal beast's engine to life. "Or you may hold onto my waist."

            Doubtfully, Kitty studied his waist and then looked at her arms. Experimentally, she wrapped them around and found that they were just long enough to reach. Once they were in place, Peter gunned the throttle and they shot off, leaving a small cloud of dust behind. Lance came around the side of the garage just in time to see them go. He stood staring after them for a few seconds then turned around and slugged the wall of the garage.

            "Goddamit! She calls me a hood then runs off with one of Magneto's lackeys? What the hell is that?" he demanded to no one since no one there. The good mood he had gotten into from watching Summers' clothes burn the night before vanished instantly. He felt his anger rising and as a result the earth began to tremble slightly. Then he recalled Magneto's warning from the night before and the tremors stopped. With his luck something heavy would fall loose in the house and hit someone and he'd be blamed for it.

            "Dammit," he muttered again, showing his hands into his pockets and stalking off to find his new buddy St. John. The fire-starter teen was out in the front lawn, making flame sculpture and . . . talking to them? Lance watched him, shook his head and sighed. And then he went to join him. 

            He didn't have anything better to do. 


	10. Rats Can't Swim, Can They?

            Author's Note**

                        Thanks to all the folks who take a moment to review. You guys rock. As for updates, I can usually get a new chapter up a day. Today, however, I had a job interview so my writing got interrupted. But never fear. . . .

            Approximately an hour and a half later, Remy LeBeau had traded in his swash buckling grin for an expression of great distaste. He might have lived the first few years of his life in and around the gutter but he had certainly never crawled around in a sewer before. Some of the other members of the thieves' guild back home had sworn that the best way to gain entry to somewhere was via the underground sewage tunnels but young Gambit found that he did not like his work to actually involve dirt. Or whatever else it was that was floating around in the sludge he and Storm were currently wading through.

            Gambit wasn't sure what to make of the white haired woman. The fact that she had knowledge of the hand code of thieves and knew his adoptive father Jean-Luc had been surprising. His only explanation for it was that she must have, at some point in her life, belonged to his guild. But that left two more questions. One, how had she gotten herself out? Guild membership was for life. And two, why hadn't he heard about her? As far as Remy knew, he was the only mutant thief in the history of the guild.

            Even more shocking though, was her statement that she would vouch for him should he ever decide he wanted to join up. What motivation could she possibly have behind that? There had to be something because Remy had learned a long time ago that no one did anything nice for you free of charge. Not that he had any intention of joining the X-men. He enjoyed his life on the opposite side of the line just fine.

            "What are you thinking about child?" Storm's voice drifted back to him and he bristled again at the term. Her voice sounded tense with a hint of panic in it; she had admitted to him when they had first entered the sewer that she was somewhat claustrophobic. The fact that she would have admitted a weakness to him, an enemy really, had thrown him a bit. He would never have confessed that even after all his years of hiding in shadows he still couldn't shake a childhood fear of the dark. _Miss Rogue would shore git a chuckle offa dat, he thought, mentally picturing the green eyed belle who had growled at him that morning. She certaintly didn't seem like the type who would sigh and offer to comfort him._

            "How much further you think it gonna be?" he asked in response, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes. There were shadows all around them and he got the strong feeling someone was watching them. He was fairly sure they had been watching ever since he and Storm had entered, but he had to tip his hat to them. There'd been no sign and no sound of them.

            "Not much further, for if the ones we search for do not show themselves now I will flood their homes with the tears of Mother Earth."

            Above his head Gambit hear the rumbled of thunder and felt the sludge around his knees slowly begin to rise. _Me'be now be a good time to tell Madame dat Remy don't swim so good, he thought, looking down at the rising water with apprehension. But he was saved from an unsavory fate by their unseen watchers._

            "Harsh words for one who's kin dwells in the very home she seeks to destroy." The voice was raspy, but unmistakably female. 

            "Show yourself," Storm repeated, sending a blast of wind spiraling down the tunnel as if that might push away the shadows. There came the sound of coughing, followed by the shuffling of feet. Gambit slipped his cards out from the sleeve of his trench coat as the owner of the voice came into the light. 

            It was an old, sickly woman with stringing white hair and sunken eyes. Her clothes, rags mostly, hung off her frail frame and she walked forward with a slow, dragging gait. She stopped ten feet from the two of them and Gambit thought he was looking at a member of the Living Dead. Unconsciously he shied away from her and her eyes, pale blue in color, pinned him. The smile she gave was very nearly gruesome with its lack of teeth and rotten gums. 

            "Yes, daemon." The term made him flinch. "Yes, keep your distance or the Plague will bring you to your knees." She punctuated her cryptic speech with a dry, heaving cough.

            Not to be deterred, Storm stepped forward. She had every intention of successfully carrying out the mission and seeing her nephew Evan and this crippled woman would not stand in her way.

            "Take us to the others, or you will find a plague upon your house," she threatened quietly. Thunder crashed again and the old woman turned her gaze upon Storm. There was a long moment of silence and then, abruptly, she turned and began walking away.

            "Follow me and stay close." More coughing. "But not too close."

                                                ****************************************

            The old woman led them through what seemed like miles of endlessly twisting tunnels until finally they came upon a large open room. Several Morlocks milled about, turning their eyes on the intruders as they entered. The one whom Storm recalled as the leader, Callisto, sat near the opening of a passageway and there was something stretched across the cement next to her. As they drew closer, Storm recognized the familiar blonde hair of her nephew. Giving a little cry, she rushed forward.

            "What have you done to him?" she demanded and at the sound of her voice, Callisto rose, giving her a full view of young Evan. His entire body, save for the top of his head, was encased in bone plating, a kind of shell. He was unable to move the slightest bit, though it did not appear as if he had any desire to.

            "We have done nothing to him. He seems to have cocooned himself. It happened over night. Calm yourself. He does not appear to be harmed," Callisto answered in a somewhat reassuring manner. 

"We must take him back to the Institute. He needs medical attention," Storm insisted, reaching down towards him. Callisto shook her head and, by way of explanation, gave the shell a firm push. Even as Storm began to protest in anger, the cocoon did not so much as move. Kneeling down, the leader of the Morlocks pointed to where the shell met the concrete.

"The bones has burrowed into the concrete. You cannot move him. He is in no danger. Now," folding her arms across

her chest, she narrowed her uncovered eye at the white weather witch. "What brings you to the lair of the unwanted?"

Storm did not respond. Her gaze remained fixed on Evan, or the shell of Evan anyway. Gambit cast a wary glance her way and, since she didn't look like she was going to answer, he did.

            "'De world be in a whole lot of trouble, mademoiselle," he began, slipping into his charming with practiced ease. "We need chore help ta save it, oui."

            From the look on Callisto's face, it did not seem as if the woman had been charmed. Still, she asked, "What is it that you need charmer?"

            The very definition of casual, Gambit took out his cards once more and began to riffling them. "'Dere be a mutant here named Caliban?"

            "Yesss." Before Callisto could answer, a tall, lanky figure stepped towards them, his pace unhurried. His skin had a dull, grey cast to it and his face held a forlornness in it that Gambit had never seen on another creature before. There was a strong feeling of disheartenment and resignation about the mutant. Gambit felt it keenly and it made him sad. This one had known great suffering.

            "Whooo aare you sssearching for?" Caliban asked in his whispering voice. Putting his cards away, Gambit leaned on his Bo, anxious to get this mission done with. He was now officially creeped out.

            "A mutant named Mesmero. You know him, monsieur?"

            Caliban shook his head slowly. "Nooo. But I will ffind himm." And with that, he closed his eyes and placed one long fingered hand to his smooth temple. Curious, Gambit watched closely but could see no hint as to the mutant's ability. After a moment, the Morlock spoke again,

            "Hhhot. Sssand. Sssun isss bright. Deathhh isss ssstrong in thhe airr." Caliban's eyes opened suddenly and he stared straight into the Cajun's red eyes.

            "Eeeygpt. Deathhh waitsss for you in Eeeygpt."


	11. You Can't Teach An Old Dog Anything

            Author's Note**

                        For all you Wolverine fans, the short man finally makes his first appearance. So where has our socially challenged human can opener been all this time?

            It was late afternoon and the sun was well on its way to the horizon. Light was in the process of making itself scarce as the groping hands of twilight came ever closer. There was a gentle quiet that was interrupted every so often by the bark of a dog or the annoying honk of an equally annoyed driver. 

The building gave the appearance of being empty and abandoned; its front door had been boarded shut and a "NO TRESPASSING" sign had been nailed to it. The windows had all been closed off as well, except for the right one on the highest floor. There was a plank missing, making a space just large enough for a medium sized bird to fit through.

            He sniffed at the air and the cool, briskness of it filled his nose. Anyone else would have smelled only the strong saucy scent of pizza, but not him. He caught a whiff of something else, fainter and less distinguishable than it had been once before. Still, he recognized it. Mystique.

            After dismounting his motorcycle and pulling off his helmet, Wolverine decided to save the owners of the building a little time and effort and do a little remodeling. As he stalked towards the door he clenched his fists and his adamantine claws shot out like deadly knives. The half rotted wood didn't even stand a chance. The door splinted and exploded beneath his attack and in seconds he stood in the front hallway. Not a sound reached his sensitive ears. He sniffed again and caught the scent, stronger now.

            "Lucy," he growled, stepping forward past the debris, "I'm home."

            A quick search of the downstairs turned up no one. Just as he reached the stairs, he heard footsteps from higher up. Without hesitation he slipped up, quiet as a large hunting cat searching for its dinner. Hopefully he wasn't planning on eating Mystique. This is PG-13 after all, let's not get gory.

            His ears led him to the third floor and as soon as his head reached the top of the landing he was met by a black booted foot. Catching him off guard, the kick struck his face and sent him sprawling back down the stairs. Landing hard on his back, Wolverine shook his head and got immediately to his feet. The blow hadn't done much but piss him off. Baring his teeth, he leapt back up the stairs, crashing one of his clawed fists through part of the floor. Mystique nimbly side stepped just in time and the two faced off for the first time in months.

            "Why do they always send the mongrel to hunt the lioness?" she asked sarcastically as they circled each other. Rolling his shoulders, Wolverine shrugged and grinned wolfishly.

            "What can I say? You've got a special place in my heart blue-skin," he retorted in a way that betrayed the statement. Yellow eyes flashing, Mystique kicked again and her powerful leg missed him this time by mere inches.

            "What are you doing here?" she demanded, trying to buy herself some time while her mind raced. She knew, despite her advancements, that she'd never be able to beat Wolverine in a physical contest. He had that added bonus to his strength of being mentally unbalanced. If he got his teeth into her, he'd never let go.

            Testing his reach, Wolverine lunged forward and swung one of his claws at her, only to have her duck out of the way. He followed it up with several more swings but she managed to evade them as well. "You didn't think we'd just ferget the fact that you tried to kill One-Eyed, did you?"

            Snickering, she sent another kick towards him then danced out of his reach. "Well, you always were one to fight other people's battles Wolverine." Slyly she shifted backwards towards a pile of dust she had noticed before. Wolverine swiped at her and she back flipped away, giving her the perfect opportunity to scoop up a handful of the stuff. Adopting her most insolent pose, she baited him.

            "You're quite the guard dog. It's a shame they didn't give you any brains to go with your animal instincts. Otherwise I might not have been able to infiltrate your home quite so easily."

            The reminder of his inability to scent her before was enough to send Wolverine rushing forward, driven by his constant internal rage. Mystique was waiting for him; when he came close enough she threw the dirt in his eyes, blinding him. Snarling incoherently, Wolverine scratched at his stinging eyes while the shape shifter took the opportunity to pummel him with kicks and punches. A low sweep of her foot sent him crashing down on to his back. She followed it up with a boot to his mid section that had him curling up. The thrill of victory raced through her and she didn't hesitate in going for the final blow. 

            She had miscalculated though; Wolverine's anger hadn't been as hot as she had thought and he had suspected she would try something low down and dirty. Only some of the dust had actually gotten into his eyes, the rest had been playacting. As her fist came down towards his head, he reached out and grabbed hold of her legs, dragging her down onto the ground. Before she had fully realized what had happened, he slammed his fist down to her neck, pinning it with two of his razor sharp claws. She could feel the cold metal against her skin and the sharp prick of his third claw as it slowly pushed forward. With defiant eyes, she glared up at him.

            "Do it," she challenged, lifting her chin slightly. Wolverine leaned forward slightly.

            "Love to," he retorted gruffly. "But you've got a few questions to answer first."

            "Release her," came a firm, but quiet feminine voice. Without relinquishing his grip, Wolverine lifted his head and stared at the middle aged woman that now stood near the top of the stairs. Her hair was short and brown, her eyes hidden by dark sunglasses despite the lack of light. He noticed she held a cane in one hand. "I will come with you and answer your questions," she added.

            "Who are you?" he asked, still not shifting. 

            "My name is Irene," her lips curved in a self-mocking smile. "though some call me Destiny."

            Wolverine recognized the name. "You're the one who raised Rogue."

            Irene nodded, a barely perceptible movement of her head. "Yes. Now please release Raven. There is much to be explained and not much time to do so."

            Suspicious, he glared down at Mystique. "We've got enough trouble without her roaming about free," he scowled. Charles had sent him a message relaying everything that had happened. He was itching to get back to the Institute, but had wanted to get this done first. For Stripes and the Elf. _My sensitive side's showing again, he thought._

            Tapping her cane impatiently against the floor, Irene frowned. "I know of your troubles, of the great evil that looms in the near future. There are a number of threads weaving their ways and the role she will play in upcoming events is critical. You must trust me, James, or you may doom us all." 

            Wolverine narrowed his eyes at the sound of the name. Her words were like ice down his spine.

"My name's Logan," he corrected, though he suddenly did not feel so very sure about that. She smiled again.

"Of course. Will you release her . . .Logan?"

 Something pushed at his brain and convinced him that she spoke truthfully. Reluctantly he released his hold on Mystique and immediately she transformed into a hawk, disappearing through the hole in the window. Getting to his feet, Wolverine sighed and shot Irene a clearly distrusting look. 

            "You better not be wrong, shades," he warned. Irene did not seem at all bothered by the threat. She began to make her way down the stairs, tapping quietly.

            "I am never wrong. Now come, I wish to see Rogue."

            Shaking his head, Wolverine glanced in the direction Mystique had flown, then turned and followed Destiny.

            "You ever been on a motorcycle before, shades?"


	12. What's In A Name?

            Author's Note**

                        It's a little jumpy but . . .shrug I think it adds character.

            "Look, I know it was you Alvers, so just admit to it so I can beat your ass and we can put this whole thing behind us."

            Scott had approached Lance in the foyer to accuse the Brotherhood member of torching his clothes the night before. So far he was denying it, but Scott figured that if he dogged him enough, eventually he'd confess. But Lance was in no mood to confess to a crime that he didn't _technically commit. He rolled his dark eyes and pushed Scott's hand off of his shoulder._

            "Yeah right. I threw your clothes on the floor and then shook them until they started on fire."

            "I'm sure someone as criminally prone as you are would know how to operate a lighter," Scott retorted, not ready to shift his suspicions. Then he remembered something that had his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "And you're all buddy-buddy with that pyromaniac," he accused as Lance began walking away. Turning around, Lance lifted his hands in the air, all innocence.

            "St. John? Hey, that guy only listens to the voices in his head. I can't be held responsible for his actions. It's not my fault you pissed off one of his voices."

            Across the room Rogue sat in a cushioned chair and watched the two of them argue. She was both tired and achy, but happy to not be stuck in that hospital room.

            "Logan's gonna wallop Scott if he finds him in his clothes," she said to the mutant that sat on the couch beside her. Warren merely sipped his tea; he didn't know Logan as well but imagined that was probably what would happen. He knew that he would certainly beat the hell out of Summers if he found him in HIS clothes.

            "So how are things goin' with you an' Fred?" she added when he didn't say anything. He frowned and, setting his cup down, stretched one long arm across the back of the couch.

            "We haven't killed each other yet, if that's what you mean. We're definitely having a conflict of social backgrounds. Anyway, did you, Wanda, and Mr. McCoy have any luck finding out anything about Apocalypse?"

            Rogue shrugged and slid down further in the chair. "There were a bunch of references to the Apocalypse in Greek and Roman myths and then again in Middle Eastern lore." Sighing, she lifted her arms up onto the armrests. "Jus' 'bout everywhere, really."

            "What 'bout Egypt, cherie?"

            At the sound of the familiar drawl, Rogue tipped her head back and saw the red eyed Cajun leaning on the back of her chair. His grin was fixed in place and he was absently flicking a single card through his fingers as he looked down at her. She knew that she shouldn't have liked the look that was in his eyes but the intensity of it went straight up her spine. In response, her voice was clipped.

            "What the hell are ya babblin' 'bout swampy?"

            Accustomed now to her less than lover-like attitude towards him, Gambit nimbly hopped up onto one of the arms of her chair and made himself comfortable. She immediately shifted to the other side out of habit; he pretended not to notice.

            "Gambit was jus' thinkin' dat he and de cherie could take a nice little vacation to Egypt. It be plenty hot 'dere, like the bayous in de summertime. Whatchu think?" he asked, leaning down towards her and making certain his eyes were on hers.

            Rogue stared up into his gaze, caught between enjoying his flirting and being annoyed that he was being secretive. He knew something important; that was easy enough to tell. Without even realizing it, she picked the thought out of his head.

            "Mesmero's in Egypt," she stated automatically. Gambit blinked, caught off guard for once.

            "You a mind reader, cherie?"

            "Ah'm not suppose ta be. Quick, think of a number between one and ten."

            Gambit didn't look quite so sure; her eyes were a bit too wide. "Wha -," he began but she cut him off with an impatient shake of her head.

            "Jus' do it already," she snapped and, surprised by the vehemence, he obliged her. She studied him for a moment and again reached into his head with relative ease.

            "Seven," she supplied after a moment and he nodded to show she was correct.

            "Dat could jus' be a good guess, cherie," he suggested, having never been a fan of mental intrusion. Rogue was already thinking though. With her eyes on him, she blinked out, appearing beside Warren on the couch an instant later. Both he and Remy stared this time, their jaws hanging open slightly. She blinked out again immediately before they could say anything. 

            This time where she re-appeared, it was inside Professor Xavier's office. He looked surprised to see her. 

            "Rogue?"

            "Ah think we've got somethin' ta talk about, Professor."

                                    ****************************************************

            Wanda had left the building.

            The sun had set, the moon had risen, and she had made her way through the darkness into the woods that surrounded the Institute. The trees closed in around her like the walls of a tomb but she wasn't afraid. The mentally unstable never are. Her head throbbed, pulsing to some unknown beat and the deeper she moved, the stronger and louder it became. Her boots thumped over wet grass and her coat rustled in a breeze that did nothing to cool the heat underneath her skin. Finally she came to a spot where the moonlight streamed through an opening in the overhead growth. He was there.

            "Good eve, Wanda." The voice that streamed out from the shadows was low and decidedly superior. Once upon a time people would have described it as noble. Wanda was not impressed.

            "Who are you? And what do you want with me?" she asked bluntly. She had learned over the years that the only way to get down to business with an evil overlord was to cut his ego out of the equation. There was a pause before the voice continued, less certain of itself this time.

            "For more than two centuries I have walked the earth, a plague to the many weaknesses of mankind." The voice quickly regained its arrogance and Wanda was forced to wait for him to finish his ranting. "My very name brings the most powerful of men to their knees. I am . . ." he trailed off and all the forest around them went dead silent in that special way that only an evil overlord could manage.

            ". . . .Mr. Sinister."

            "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Wanda collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter the moment she heard the words. Annoyed, Dr. Nathaniel Essex stepped out into the light and glared down at her, his silvery skin shimmering. The sight of him scowling sent her further into hysterics. She dropped to the ground and tears came rolling down her cheek. When she tried to speak, her words came out in between laughter.

            "Who . . .the . . .hell . . .let . . .you . . .out . . .of . . .the. . .house . . .with . . .that. . .name? . .That . . .is . . .the . . .STUPIDEST . . .name . . .for . . . an  . . .evil . . .mastermind. . .I've. . .EVER . . .heard. . .HAHAHAHA!"

            "Do you mind? I'm trying to go for the whole evil image here and you're sort of ruining it for me," he hissed, stomping a foot and crossing his arms over his chest. Trying to choke back the laughter, Wanda sat up and snorted.       

            "I'm so sorry, Dr. Badman. I don't know what came over me." Her straight face lasted for approximately three seconds before she fell into giggles again. Still frowning, he turned his head up towards the sky and waited for her to compose herself. When she didn't, he sighed in frustration and threw his hands into the air. 

            "Come on! I'll tell you my evil master plan later. Wouldn't want you to laugh at THAT too," he whined, storming off. Getting to her feet, Wanda trailed after him, still chuckling. 

            "Wait for me Mr. Meanie Man!"

            And the evil partnership began.

                        *************************************

            Half an hour later, Professor Xavier and Mr. McCoy were both looking at Rogue with new consideration. She had just finished demonstrating the last of her apparent "new" powers. And it had been quite a list.

            "It would seem, Rogue, that though we purged the personalities and the memories of all those that you have absorbed over time, you remain able to access their abilities. Astounding," Xavier noted, folding his hands. Beside him, Mr. McCoy placed one large paw on the back of his wheelchair.

            "It makes one wonder if any new abilities she absorbs will also remain accessible after time," he pointed out.

            Rogue's eyes lit up at that idea. "Hey, we should test it ta see," she suggested eagerly. Professor X rubbed a hand underneath his chin and frowned in thought. It was something important to know before they headed into battle. Perhaps all these other abilities had replaced her original ability to absorb. The trouble was finding someone who wouldn't mind being knocked unconscious for a while. He certainly didn't want to be and he doubted that Hank would want to be either.

            "We'd have to find a student who was willing to volunteer," he murmured out loud. 

            The grin that stretched Rogue's lips apart was a tad bit frightening. "Ah know jus' the person. Be right back."

            And before anyone could protest, she teleported out. 


	13. The Trouble With Romance

            Author's Note**

                        Okay, I'm going to be honest. I don't speak French. Or German for that matter. I took Spanish in high school and all I can remember from that is "Donde es tu chicos picanos" or "Donde es la cervesa" which roughly translates to "Where are your little boys?" and "Where is the beer?" The two most useless phrases I could ever have learned. Now, I got my French here from one of those online translation things and I'm sure it's completely wrong, but that's not important. I don't care if it's wrong. What's important is that it _looks French which, to me, is all that really matters._

She appeared back in the foyer, where the others were all still gathered. Scott and Lance were still bitching to each other, Angel had moved and was now deep in conversation with Jean, and Gambit had shifted himself into the seat of her chair. His legs hung over the right arm and he absently rifled his cards while he stared off into space. Suddenly curious, because he looked so involved with his own thoughts, she reached out with one of her newly discovered abilities. What she got was a solid wall of blankness. _Hmmm, mahbe monsieur Remy doesn't like people rifling through his head, she thought to herself. Then she smiled again, barely able to hold in her laughter. __Ah'm gonna enjoy this, Cajun. Absently Remy brushed a piece of his dark hair away from his eyes and the movement allowed her to appreciate the strong line of his jaw. One of her eyebrows lifted. __In more ways than one I guess._

            "Where y'at, Cajun?" she called out as she started towards him. Smooth as always, when Remy turned his head his smile was already in place. This time he caught the unholy gleam in her green eyes and wondered what special occasion he was in for this time.

            "Gambit be jus' fine cherie. Only he wonderin' where ya ben?" he asked as he swung his legs around and planted them on the floor.

            As if she had stalked men her entire life, Rogue stopped just in front of the chair with his feet on either side of her. She set one fist comfortably on her hip and sent him a slow grin.

            "Oh, here and there. Ya know, Remy," she began, leaning down to place one hand on each arm of the chair, "Ah was thinkin' that since ya done such a good job comin' up with Mesmero's whereabouts, ya deserve some kind of reward."

            His eyes dropped down to her lips and lingered long enough to have her blood heating. For a moment she almost forgot she was playacting and butterflies shot up into her stomach. After all, she'd only kissed one boy in her life and Remy, despite his playful attitude, was certainly no Mississippi boy.

            "Dat funny, cherie, 'cause Remy, he be thinkin' de same thing." Red irises flashed; she was close enough for him to smell the dark perfume she probably had dabbed on just under her chin. The scent clogged his lungs. _Remy shore gonna be mad if he dies before he gets his reward. "Whatchu got in mind, belle?"_

            She couldn't quite remember what she had had originally in her mind but abruptly she didn't care. It took half of a breath to close the distance between their lips and less than that for her powers of absorption to kick in. All she got was a brief hint of spice before his body gave a jerk and he slipped away from her. His eyes remained opened for another second and a smile kept his lips occupied as he succumbed to the blackness.

            "Stripes? What's goin' on here?" a familiar gruff voice kicked her out of her reverie and her head jumped up.

            "Logan! Um . . .," she searched for an adequate explanation that wouldn't be followed by claws being extracted from Remy's chest. She stared at the rough figure in the front doorway and said,

            "Il le feutre aime prendre un somme." (He felt like taking a nap)

            Wolverine raised an eyebrow but figured it wasn't worth pursuing. So instead he moved away from the door and prepared to present his special delivery.

            "I brought ya somethin' Stripes."

            The first thing that appeared in the door was a cane with a slender hand a top of it. It was quickly followed by the rest of the figure and when Rogue saw who it was the X-men heard a sound come from her that they never would have imagined she was capable of making. She gave a squeal of delight and raced across the room to throw her arms around the short haired woman with dark sunglasses.

            "Irene!" was all she managed to say before she buried her face in the woman's sweater. 

            There was no doubt in anyone's mind just who Rogue's mother was.

                        *****************************************

            "What are ya doin' here Irene?" Rogue asked when she finally let go of the woman who had raised her. Irene tipped her head towards Wolverine and then began tapping her way forward, "looking" for a chair.

            "This charming young man came to pay Mystique a visit," she replied, finding the chair that Gambit was sprawled in front of. She tapped him with her cane and then frowned. "You might want to put this young man somewhere more comfortable. James, lift him up onto that couch."

            While the others marveled over how she had known there was a couch there, Wolverine grunted and strode forward to pick up the young Cajun. None-too-carefully he tossed the limp form up onto the couch. Gambit groaned lightly and seemed to be coming around. 

            "I told you. The name's Logan," he muttered darkly. Irene waved his complaint away and sat down. Rogue sat across from her, her eyes narrowed.

            "What were ya doin' with Mystique, Irene?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. She had the vague feeling she wasn't going to like what she was about to find out.

            "I've been with Mystique since she adopted you. Before then, even."

            "But wah?" Confusion set in. Always a bad sign. Reaching out, Irene took one of Rogue's gloved hands in her own.

            "Child, fate does not weave a single strand. She weaves a tapestry and you do not question the thread you are tied to, you question the picture you make. Mystique has damaged the lives of many, this is true. But without her, the picture changes and becomes something far more terrible than anything she has ever done."

            _Okay, this is straight outta that movie, the Prophecy. "But wah did she adopt me?"_

            "Because I told her to. I had visions of you Rogue, when I was a child." Letting go of her hand, Irene took off her sunglasses and looked at Rogue with eyes a milky white. Eerily, Rogue got the feeling Irene could still see her. "I have seen a great many things in my life, some horrible, some beautiful. But none have brought to me the happiness seeing you did. Now," she stated abruptly, completely pushing away the mushy, heartfelt stuff, "you feel betrayed and alone. You must bury that. Bury it Rogue," she warned, "and leave it. There are other things you must know. That you all must know."

            She turned her sightless gaze on the rest of the room. "Bring me everyone."

                        *********************************************

            Once every living soul currently housed within the Institute, X-men and others, (minus two) had been gathered, Irene settled back into her chair and began to divulge the secrets that had been whispered into her ears and played behind her eyes ever since she had been a child.

            _"A great evil will rise from the forgotten sands of time to claim the world as his own. Four horsemen shall ride at his side and carry out his will. Death shall fly on broken wings and Disease shall spread unseen. Thunder shall hail the coming of War and all those who do not perish shall know hunger, shall know Famine."_

            "This is like, totally creeping me out," Kitty whispered from her position next to Peter and the quiet young man nodded his head. He believed the words of the woman though; in Russia he had seen the words of the witch women come true.

            _"One who had served him shall gather to his side the one with many threads, and her role is unknown as is her fate."_

            "I wonder if she's talkin' about any of these girls," Todd stated quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

            "Ich weiß nicht," Kurt muttered under his breath. (I don't know.)

            _"Twelve shall fight; eight shall fall. The man with many lives shall give freely to one in need."_

            "Many lives? What the hell is she talking about?" Lance grumbled to his new friend St. John. But for once the freckled face Aussie seemed completely lucid and was watching the woman with serious eyes. Maybe the insane can smell their own.

            _"The one with many faces shall show them the way."_

            "Many faces? That sounds like Mystique," Scott commented to Jean and he felt her shrug.

            "Or Rogue," was her reply.

            _"The Prince of Thieves shall sacrifice life for love and gain heaven in return."_

            "Gambit not like de sound of dat."

            "I wouldn't like the sound of it either," Warren responded quietly.

            "What about the fat one? She say anything about the fat one?" Fred asked sounding a little panicked.

            _"Finally, the Unnamed shall bring evil to its knees and cast it back from whence it came, sealing the doors forever. But evil's taint shall remain, for one shall flee unharmed and unmasked."_

            "Well fuck."

            Everyone turned around to stare at Bobby who hadn't realized he had spoken so loudly. He flushed and stared down at his shoes for a moment.

            "Sorry."


	14. It's A Mad, Mad, Mad World

            Author's Note**

                        Okay, no more cryptic nonsense . . . well maybe just a little bit more. Oh, and I'm dipping deep into the comic gene pool, so if you're a little lost, don't worry. I am too.

            Many, many miles away, surrounded by the cool dark fingers of nighttime, Pietro Maximoff was leaning up against a lamp post. In his hands was a map and he was trying his best to read the tiny names of streets in the dim light. He had two more letters to deliver and then he could return to the mansion for his next big assignment. So far his difficulties hadn't come from getting to the different post offices; his super speed came in handy for that. Probably why Magneto sent him to do it in the first place. The problem came from trying to find post offices that had the number five in their address. There weren't as many as you would think. Right now he was in Oklahoma and he was having a world of trouble finding _a post office, let alone one with the number five in its address._

            Oh boy, he couldn't wait to get back to the Institute to get his next super secret assignment! The thought of all those X-geeks running around searching after that stupid Mesmero guy while he was off doing the really important work just tickled him pink. He liked pink. It was a pretty color. Made him think of bunnies, and cotton candy, and . . . something else that was pink. Frowning, he glanced up from his map and stared off into the distance for a moment. No, he couldn't think of anything else that was pink except for . . . PEEPS!! Everyone's favorite marshmallows! Boy, he could sure go for some peeps right about now!

            Just as Pietro was beginning to lose himself in the wonderful world of Easter candy, a cold and slimy feeling ran down the length of his spine. Giving a yelp, he straightened and leapt back from the street lamp, eyeing it with distrust. While he was glaring at it, wondering where it had gotten the nerve to try and attack him that same feeling crept down his back again. Shuddering, he turned and looked off in several directions, his gaze met each time by shadows. Fright began to slither into him, and that part of his mind that linked him to another person gave him the name to call out into the night.

            "Wanda?" His voice shook lightly. "Are you there Wanda?"

            The wind blew through the street, sending dust bunnies dancing along the way. Somewhere a door slammed and a gun fired, and anything else stereotypical of Oklahoma that you can think up happened. But there was no reply to his trembling question. Still, something pressed at the small object lodged inside his head. _Wanda's gotten herself into something bad, he thought, unconsciously crumpling the map he held in his hands. As much as she appeared to dislike him and enjoyed scaring the shit of him, they were still twins. There was still a bond there somewhere. At times he really wished there __wasn't because sometimes her freaky crazy thoughts meandered into his head and let me tell you, there's nothing more disturbing than watching yourself devour the poor helpless little bunny rabbits you had been dreaming about!_

            "I've got to get back to father and tell him about this," Pietro stated out loud. But then he remembered the letters that were still in his possession. Magneto had said that every one needed to be delivered. He'd be pissed if he came back and hadn't finished the job. But what if Wanda had gotten her real memories back and was going to try and kill their father again? What to do? Stretching his arms out wide, Pietro looked up and asked the one man who had always been there for him in his hour of need.

            "God, what should I do? Send me a sign!"

            As soon as the words left his lips he was thrown backwards when an unseen hand backhanded him across the face. Landing in a pile of garbage cans and sending them scattering, Pietro shook his head and put a hand up to his jaw. Confused, he tilted his head back up towards the sky.

            "What does that mean?"

            "It means you're an idiot. And I obviously didn't hit you hard enough. There's a post office down the street on the right. It's got two fives in it, so you can drop off both the letters there. Then get your ass back to the Institute," came God's rumbling and holy exasperated voice.

                        *******************************************

            In the unwholesome underground, hiding in the pipes and tunnels built by man, the Morlock known as Plague turned restlessly in her slumber. Her frail bones shivered with a chill that never warmed, no matter how many rags she buried herself beneath. As she slept, her dreams were filled with visions of death and decay and disease, all things she had known nearly her entire life. She was tired. So very tired of life and her weak body.

            _Come. Come and I shall grant thee power unlike that thou hast e'er known. The words were like the gentle press of a lover's lips upon her mind. She opened her pale eyes to darkness and whispered into it,_

            "I come."

                        *******************************************

            Elsewhere, in an apartment that was both run down and broken like the man who lived in it, Abraham Lincoln Kieros sat in front of his busted television watching salt kick the hell out of pepper. His legs dangled uselessly in front of him; his gift for having risked his life for his country in the war in Vietnam. Alcohol sludged through his system, leaving him bordering on the edge of consciousness and he wished for God to just make it all go black.

            _Come._

            With eyes bleary and bloodshot, Bram glanced about the room. The fact that voice was disembodied didn't seem to bother him.

            "Wha?" he slurred to the empty room.

            _Come. I have need of thy service, warrior._

            He snorted at that and reached for his beer. All he succeeded in doing was knocking it off the arm of his chair. "Warrior? I think you got the wrong place, pal. I can't come anywhere, my legs are busted."

            There was silence, and then Bram felt a curious tingling in the limbs that had dead for so long. Looking down in amazement, he watched as he shifted the legs that he had not moved on his own in more than thirty-five years.

            _Come._

                        ********************************************

            Draped in robes that hid her shriveled body, Autumn Rolfson drifted through the night. Her mind was a mass of hate and self-loathing; all those that had ever called her a freak would soon enough find themselves writhing at her mercy. Of which she had none. She heard the call of the master and she walked to him now. There would be others, others who would help to bring down those who had laughed and those who had mocked so cruelly. Revenge would be as sweet as the scent of strawberries in the summer.

            _Come._


	15. When It Hurts That Bad,

            Author's Note**

                        Me? Off our favorite smooth talking Cajun? Pfsh! Crazy talk. I'm just going to kill him a little bit. That's all. Nothing to worry about.

            "So, basically yer sayin' that Miss Too-Many-Screws-Loose has taken off and Pietro thinks she's hooked up with some evil villain because God told him he was an idiot?" Rogue asked the next morning when the news of Wanda's disappearance was broken. No one else seemed particularly interested in the fact that Wanda was gone, except for Todd. He was sitting down and staring off into space like little Jimmy had just come up to him and told him they needed to go shoot Old Yeller. Everyone else was getting ready to journey to Egypt.

            Professor Xavier tilted his head slightly to one side and folded his hands in his lap. "Not exactly but good enough."

            Sighing, Rogue threw her gloved hands into the air. "Well now who's gonna be mah partner?" she wanted to know, shifting her gaze around the group gathered in the foyer. Her eyes landed on one person in particular and they narrowed. In response, Gambit tipped a hand to her and grinned broadly. Rogue glanced down at the Professor and the older gentleman nodded his head.

            "Now Professor, Ah don't think this is the time for jokes."

            "I'm sorry Rogue, but I need Beast and Storm to remain here and help me coordinate the younger students. And Wolverine threatened to tear my eyes out and eat them if I partnered him with anyone."

            She folded her arms across her chest and scowled darkly. "That's jus' mah luck." Across the room she caught sight of Magneto speaking with Pietro and her eyes narrowed again. "Wha' about Magneto? What's he gonna be doin'?"

            Xavier directed his gaze over towards the white haired mutant. "He will be remaining here."

            "That shore doesn't sound like him."

            He shrugged a quick movement of his shoulders. "He spoke at great length last night with Destiny and afterwards he informed me that he would not be partaking in the mission. He did not mention his reasoning."

            Rogue kept her eyes focused on man of magnetism; she trusted him just about as far as she could throw him. Of course, now that she could pull up Fred's or Juggernaut's strength whenever she wanted she could probably throw him pretty far actually.

            "Careful, cherie. You stare hard enough an' you'll burn a hole in his head."

            Gambit's voice was low and warm just next to her ear. It tickled her neck and made her want to shiver, which had the adverse effect of annoying her. Annoyance was part of her self-defense mechanism. If she didn't get pissed off, then she might do something stupid like forget she couldn't touch people without draining the life from them. The incident from the night before was still fresh in her mind; luckily the Cajun's memories had faded fairly quickly. But the anger she always felt at her inability to do something as simple as touch remained.

            "Can't ya take a hint, swamp rat?" she very nearly snarled, suddenly feeling in a very poor mood indeed. Both of Gambit's eyebrows lifted and confusion settled into his face.

            "Gambit thought he was takin' de hint. De cherie did kiss him last night, non?"

            Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Rogue started walking, not surprised at all when he followed at her heels. "Yeah, and Ah knocked ya out flat, don'tcha remember?"

            Remy rubbed a hand over his chin and smiled reminiscently. "Gambit remember. Dat was one hell of a kiss cherie," he stated admiringly as the two moved from the foyer into a hallway, away from the others. Rogue whirled around and stopped, determined to get this thing settled once and for all so he would quit bugging her. She ignored the fact that she was saddened by the idea.

            "Look, Cajun-"

            "How come de cherie neva call Gambit by his name?" he interrupted, leaning up against the opposite wall. He said it offhandedly but Rogue could tell that it bothered him a little. It cut a tiny hole in her resolve and as a result she had to infuse bite into her voice.

            "Mahbe 'cause Ah don't like ya."

            His grin was sharp and quick. "Ah, but you can't fool a thief. Remy know de cherie be lyin'. He can see it."

            Feeling a kind of frustration she had never felt before in her life, Rogue ground her teeth together and tried her best to forget the fact that the way he looked at her made her pulse jump.

            "Look," she started forcefully, "Ah absorb people. That's mah power. Ah could kill ya jus' by touchin' ya." Her voice faltered slightly. It was always so difficult to realize that. That she'd never be able to be with someone without hurting them. She'd never be able to hold a child without gloves on. She'd never be able to have a child. As those thoughts ran through her brain, her face closed down. "So go find some other _femme to play with," she suggested, turning to walk away._

            But Remy was quick and he had style by the bucket full. He closed the distance between them before she could move and abruptly she found herself with her back against a wall and him just a few inches away. That heavy, spicy scent she had sampled the night before flowed off of him and she felt her cheeks flush at his closeness. His red eyes pinned her and held her in place more firmly than any physical hold could have. Without speaking, he lifted one hand to her face, bringing his bare fingers just centimeters from her skin. He traced the line of her jaw, over her eyes, down over her lips, then down the long line of her throat without actually touching her. She could feel the warmth from his skin and her heart pounded in her head. 

            "Feel dat cherie?" he asked, hoarsely. For all his suaveness, his fingers were shaking lightly, like a school boy approaching his first crush. Rogue didn't answer him, but he could tell that she could. He smiled again, but this time it wasn't nearly as confident as it had been before. "An' Gambit ain't even touchin' you. He won't hurt you, non."

            Swallowing, Rogue pulled her eyes away and turned her head to the side. Something ached deep in her chest and in the pit of her stomach. "He's lyin'," she managed softly, not meeting his gaze. "He's hurtin' me right now."

            There was silence and even without looking at him, she could tell he was considering. His body shifted after a minute or so and when she finally glanced back, he was gone.

                        *************************************

            "What do you want me to do now, father, huh? What kind of secret mission do I go on next?" Pietro was asking Magneto excitedly, his brown eyes flashing. Magneto looked down at him and frowned. _Oh, that's right. I've got to give Skippy here something to do so he doesn't screw up the universe._

            "Here. This is extremely important Pietro," he stated, handing the speed demon a sheet of paper. Pietro hurriedly scanned it and found it was a list of items. A fairly long list of items. A fairly long list of . . . groceries?

            "You want me to go shopping?" the son asked, looking up with a small amount of bewilderment. Scanning his brain, Magneto tried to come up with a better selling point all while thinking, hey, maybe the boy isn't quite as dumb as I thought he was.

            "I want you to go hunting for me," he supplied finally, figuring that sounded much more important. And sure enough, Pietro appeared tremendously pleased with the replacement verb. 

            "Surethingfather!Iwon'tletyoudown!" His eyes searched the list again and he bit his bottom list, searching his tiny brain for thoughts. "Hey, do all these items have to be bought at different stores? Like the letters?"

            His face completely blank, Magneto stared into his son's adoring eyes and thought, _oh my god, it's like shooting a puppy. But hey, an evil overlord has to do what an evil overlord has to do, even if that includes shooting a puppy here and there. So to Pietro he answered,_

            "Yes."

            And when his son speed off to do his supposed evil bidding, Magneto turned to Charles Xavier who wheeled up beside him a moment later and said, "Never have children Charles. It's just not worth it."

            Charles Xavier smiled ruefully and spread his arms out. "I have an entire Institute of children. Sometimes I want to hang myself."

            For the first time in a long time, Erik Magnus and Charles Xavier nodded to each other in perfect agreement.


	16. It Must Be Indigestion

            Author's Note**

                        So, what happens when a group of up and coming x-kids are given the chance to put their training to the test by investigating a few new mutants Cerebro has picked up? SlverShdws Inc. proudly presents to you. . .

                        The end of the world.

            New York City was only a few hours away from Bayville and its towering skyscrapers stood like metal giants against the blue backdrop of the sky. Thousands of people made their way through the streets, each with a face uniquely their own. So many races, so many nationalities, so many different and interesting people living on a few tiny islands. It was hardly surprising that it was also a hot spot for mutant activity.

            Bobby Drake, affectionately also know as "Iceman" (or Captain Idiot, depending on who you asked), stepped through the revolving doors of Grand Central Station and took a deep breath of the air between Lexington and Park. He wrinkled his nose at the sour smell and decided it wasn't quite what he had been expecting. Turning, he grinned at the rest of his group as they came through the doors behind him. 

            "See guys? Didn't I tell you that we'd be sent on a mission?" he boasted, holding his hands out wide. 

            "Yeah, but you also told us that you were being slowly devoured by purple turtles whenever you fell asleep, remember?" Roberto recalled, coming up and slapping Bobby on the shoulder. In response, Bobby glared at him. He was still ticked off about Sunspot's comment about his spelling ability. But oh, Roberto would get his in due time. Due time. Just as soon as he figured out how to control those purple turtles, he'd let them loose in his room. And then they would see who would be laughing last . . . .

            "Bobby?"

            Blinking, Bobby glanced down at little Jamie and seeing the shrimp reminded him of something. "I can't believe Ray couldn't come," he said suddenly, frowning. Jamie raised his eyebrows and wondered if the manic look in Bobby's eyes could be categorized as a bad thing. 

            "Well, he was unconscious," he pointed out in his chirpy voice. In the same movement, both he and Bobby turned their heads and stared at Tabitha who was already absorbing the city's vibe. She caught the tail end of their conversation and shrugged.

            "Hey, how was I supposed to know the ceiling would collapse on him?" 

            Bobby rolled his eyes. "Maybe because you had thrown one of your plasma balls up at it?" he suggested sarcastically.

            "Children." Storm's cool, quiet voice had everyone relaxing and they all turned their attention to her. Well aware that New York had distractions everywhere, she wanted to get the kids through the mission as quickly as possible. That way less things could go wrong. But oh how things have a way of going wrong. 

            "It's important for you to work together and keep the bickering to a minimum," she stated, sighing when Bobby and Tabitha continued to glare at each other. "Now, the first subject we are looking for is a young lady by the name of Emma Frost. She is a telepath, so please try and watch what you are thinking. If she is either frightened or distrustful of us, her natural reaction will be to probe our minds. Try not to give her any reason to become hostile."

            At the sound of the mutant's name, Bobby's eyes lit up. "Frost, huh? She's gonna want to meet the Iceman."

            "Storm, maybe Bobby shouldn't go with us," Amara whispered quietly in the older woman's ear. Storm looked at Bobby and started to disagree. After all, despite his moments of immaturity, Bobby was very capable and had a good control over his abilities. Then she started to consider the suggestion when he went into his "Iceman Dance" routine. Arms were thrown up, a butt was wiggling in a very embarrassing manner, and people were starting to stare.

            "Do you think he'll go quietly, or do you think we'll need to use force?" she asked back. Smiling, Tabitha leaned over and slung her arms over both their shoulders.

            "Oh, please. Let's use force."

                        ******************************************

            Finding Emma Frost wasn't too terribly difficult. Before they had left that morning, the Professor had been able to come up with several places she was often seen in. Once they had . . . dealt with Bobby, the group hit the first place on the list; a small café near Wallstreet. And as luck would have it, she was already there, her gaze focused on a group of businessmen seated in the back. As a result, she did not notice the group of strangers that stood just outside the door. Tabitha took one look at the girl's pure white ensemble and shook her head, whistling lightly through her teeth.

            "Obviously she takes her name way too seriously. What, is she trying to blind people with that get-up?" she asked to no one in particular. Beside her Amara shrugged and replied quietly,

            "I think she looks really classy."

            Tabitha snapped her gum. "She's probably loaded. Let's mug her."

            Sam had his hands pressed against the windows and his eyes were large as he looked in. "She sure is pretty," he commented and little Jamie bobbed his head in agreement. 

            "Alright Roberto. When you go in there, keep your mind as blank as you can. Introduce yourself and explain a little bit about the Institute and what Professor Xavier is offering. Remember that she has every right to refuse and be certain to remain non-threatening, okay?" Storm was telling the dark haired boy. 

            With a grin that could light up a dark room, Roberto gave a little salute. "No problem. Leave it ta me," were his words as he pulled opened the café's door and walked inside. Everyone watched as he approached the young woman's table and got her attention. He flashed another smile and introduced himself and though the girl's beautiful face was wary, she motioned with her hand towards an empty chair. Roberto pulled it out and sat down, resting his arms on the table in front of him. What happened next happened almost too fast for anyone to catch. One moment Roberto was speaking animately, and then next he was running toward the front windows of the café. Surprised, the entire group scattered just as he came crashing through the glass, landing with a thump and an "oomph" and rolling onto his back. Storm ran to the window just in time to see Miss Frost exiting through a back door. 

            Amidst a sea of sharp glass, Roberto sat up and pressed a hand to his aching head. It felt a bit like she had taken a sledgehammer and beaten him with it. Quite a little gift she had there. Of course, that mind thowmp hadn't been nearly as cool as having her make him run himself through a plate of glass. "Dios mios," he muttered, shaking glass off of himself. "I think she likes me."

            With no small amount of disbelief, Storm stared down at the youth as he picked himself up from the pavement. "What did you say to her Roberto?"

            He shrugged, happy to find that his bones seemed to all be in one piece. "Just what you told me to. I told her my name and where I was from. Then I started to tell her about the Professor and the Institute."

            Clucking her tongue, Tabitha inspected the damaged windows. "Well apparently she wasn't interested in joining up."

            "A simple no would have been a lot less rude," Amara sniffed, moving over to check and see if Roberto was really alright. Ignoring them, Storm studied Roberto for a minute or so, thinking. Finally she asked,

            "What were you thinking about while you were talking to her?"

            He grinned and flipped his hair back from his face. "How she'd look in a two piece."

            Narrowing her eyes, Amara gave him a swift knock in the back of the head, the returned to her place next to Tabitha and continued glaring at him. Tabitha shook her head.

            "Men are such bastards."

                        ***************************************

            Just a few blocks away from Grand Central Station, down an alleyway, there was a green metal garbage bin. It looked as if it had been sealed shut by a blow torch and there was a ring of molten rock around the lid. But since no one ever wandered down the alley, no one noticed. And no one heard the pounding, followed by the muffled voice,

            "Hey! Hey this isn't funny guys! Let me out of here! Come on!" 


	17. Just Another Walk In The Park

            Author's Note**

                        Hey, guys thanks for the reviews. Every time I read 'em I want to slap up a new chapter. Speaking of new chapters. . .

                        How much could possibly go wrong in one day? You'd be surprised.

            "Okay, children. That did not go as well as I had hoped it would," Storm was saying as the group walked along the busy streets of New York. "But at least no one got killed."

            "Hey, speak for yourself," Roberto stated, rubbing at his aching head. Behind him Amara reached up and swatted him again.

            "It's not like you didn't deserve it," she pointed out. He shrugged but didn't respond. She was getting just a little too free with those whaps of hers. For once in his life he wished that they hadn't beaten up Bobby and thrown him in that dumpster. At least if he had been there, then they could have abused him instead. Why is it that you never realize the beauty of what you have until you throw it in a dumpster and seal the lid?

            "So, who's our next victim?" Tabitha asked since no one else bothered to. Storm frowned at the term "victim" but figured it was apt enough. _Why did we let these kids into the Institute again?_

            "Her name is Theresa Cassidy. There shouldn't be any problems here as her father is an old friend of Professor Xavier's. She will know about the Institute and since she can't read minds, we should be alright there. All that really needs to be done is to extend the invitation." Storm looked over the group that stood in various stances in front of her and tried to decide who would be the best to talk with the girl. Roberto she ruled out immediately, just to be safe. The Professor had warned her that Theresa had a bit of a temper and so she'd probably blow right over Sam or Jamie. Or Amara for that matter. The quiet types weren't likely to be the type to sway her over. They needed to send someone who had a bit of a temper of her own. She hoped to god that she wouldn't blow anything up.

            "Do you think you can handle that Tabitha?"

            The blonde haired girl gave a casual wave of her hand and smiled. "Sure, no problem. I certainly don't give two shits about what she looks like in a two piece."

            "Funny Tabitha," Roberto muttered. She turned her smile on him sweetly.

            "I thought so Spotty."

            "Children." Storm's voice had enough warning in it to get them both to end an argument before it could begin.

            "So where do we find this Theresa?" Tabitha asked, spitting out her gum in a nearby garbage bin and replacing it immediately with another stick. She found that she concentrated better when she was chewing. 

            "Her father mentioned that she spent a large amount of her time in Central Park," Storm replied as she led the team in that direction. Rolling her eyes, Tabitha set her hands on her hips as they passed through one of the metal archways.

            "Well that doesn't really help. There's about five hundred miles to Central Park. How are we supposed to find her?"

            "Aye, yer nothin' but a two bit cheat an' a lousy one at that! I ought ta beat some manners inta you boyo!"

            At the sound of the high pitched Irish laced voice, Storm paused and motioned for everyone else to do so as well. Her white eyes scanned the surrounding area and eventually settled on a young woman with fiery red hair who was currently shaking her first at a very nervous young man. _A bit of a temper Charles? Thanks for the warning. Turning to the rest of the group, Storm motioned towards the red haired woman._

            "See? All it really takes is a little bit of persistence."

            Tabitha raised an eyebrow. "And a whole lot of luck. You know, she doesn't look very approachable," she said, casting a wary eye in the girl's direction. 

            "If you're frightened, I can go myself," Storm replied, knowing exactly what button to push. And it worked like a charm. 

            "Scared? Please. If she shakes that fist at me I'm going to blow it off and shove it down her throat," Tabitha declared as she started towards the new mutant recruit. Everyone watched with nervous anticipation as she got close enough to steal Theresa's attention away from the young man. There was a moment of down right terror when they saw Tabitha's lips moving and no one had a clue as to what she was saying. Whatever it was though, it had the Irish lass throwing her head back and laughing. All the tension in everyone's shoulders slipped away as Tabitha sat down across from her and the two started conversing. Storm let out a long sigh of relief and began to consider the best place to put Theresa in the mansion.

            But again, like the time before, something went wrong in the space of an instant. One moment everything was going peachy keen, and the next minute there was an ungodly scream that blew through the park, knocking everyone flat on their asses. Pushing herself up, Storm pushed her long white hair out of her face and looked in the direction of where the two girls had been sitting. Theresa was now gone and Tabitha was making her way back towards them, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

            "What happened?" Storm inquired once she had reached them. Tabitha stared at her and frowned.

            "What?" she asked loudly, leaning forward slightly.

            "I said, what happened?" Storm repeated, raising her voice. Tabitha shook her head.

            "I don't know anyone named Patrick," she responded, nearly yelling. Closing her eyes Storm sighed again and started walking, wondering which god she had managed to piss off. The rest of the kids fell in behind her. Amara walked in time beside Tabitha.

            "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned. 

            "Huh?"

            "I said, are you okay?" she reiterated, louder.

            "I don't wear a toupee. What's with all these weird questions?"

                        *********************************************

            Back at the garbage bin, Bobby was getting mighty tired of sitting on a heap of rotten food and such. Plotting various ways to execute his fellow teammates had kept him from smelling it for about an hour, but four hours later it was getting kind of nauseating. It was simple. He had to get out of there before he vomited, which probably wouldn't do much for the smell. Beating on the lid with his hands and his feet hadn't gotten him anywhere. The metal was packed down and sealed tightly. And he, despite all his many fantasies, wasn't strong enough to bust through solid metal. Unless of course . . . 

            "Of course!" he shouted, bringing his head up quickly as inspiration struck him. Unfortunately that wasn't the only thing that struck him. His head bounced off the metal ceiling and nearly knocked him out. Rubbing at the offended spot, he sat up slowly this time and tried to remember what he had been thinking about. Oh, right. Escape and execution. Blowing on his hands, he set them up against the side of the garbage bin and concentrated on freezing the metal all the way through to the other side. He froze what he hoped was a large enough section for him to fit through and when he was finished, he laid down and pressed his shoulders against the opposite side of the bin for balance. Then he pulled his legs back and kicked out at the patch of ice he had created. The frozen metal shattered under the blow and it was with great relief that he crawled out from his prison o' stink. 

            "Goddamn bastards. I'm so going to get them bad," he mumbled out loud as he got to his feet and brushed bits of garbage off of his clothes. He didn't notice the Japanese boy standing just a few feet away from him until he lifted his head and started to walk forward. Their eyes met and surprise was mirrored in them.

            "Uh . .hi," Bobby said after a moment.

            "Hi." The boy replied. 

            The two stood in complete silence for a moment with the traffic of New York raging in the background. Bobby scratched at the back of his neck and glanced back at the garbage bin from which trash was still spilling out of.

            "I guess you're wondering how I got out of there," he guessed. The boy shook his head.

            "No. I'm wondering what the hell you were doing in there," he corrected with only a hint of an accent. Hmmm. How did he go about answering that question? Bobby considered all his various options. He couldn't very well tell this stranger that his mutant companions had locked him in there. And he didn't think he would believe it if he said he had fallen in on his own. That left only one possible explanation.

            "Would you believe purple turtles?" 


	18. Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut

Author's Note**

            This'll be the last chapter featuring the new mutants. Hmm, we're getting frightfully close to the end of the story here. 

            For a long, silent moment, the young Japanese man stood and stared at him almost as if he was studying a creature he had never seen before. Uncomfortable underneath the scrutiny Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. He had a sinking suspicion that the boy was going to make some kind of smart ass remark about his purple turtles. Well, if that happened he was just going to have to turn the kid into a popsicle and remove his head from his body. Nobody treats the Iceman with disrespect. NOBODY! Except for Rogue because he was about as frightened of her as Pietro was of his sister. But other than that, NOBODY! Well, and Kitty because she had once threatened to reach into his chest and rip out his still beating heart. Okay, but other than that . . . . .NOBODY!

            To his surprise though the stranger, who stood straight as a pole, gave a brief nod of his head. The movement sent his long black ponytail swinging.

            "I would believe that, yes. I have seen them, too," he confessed. Bobby's eyes widened and his grin nearly split his face in half.

            "Really? Wow! That's awesome. Hey, have they ever tried to snack on you?"

            "Sometimes. Then I kill them." The boy's black eyes were fierce, and then became confused. "But still more come."

            "Whoa, kill them. I never thought about that," Bobby murmured to himself. He shook his head and held out a hand to the young man. "My name's Bobby Drake. What's yours?"

            "Shiro Yoshida," he replied, accepting the handshake. "Some call me Sunfire."

            "How come?"

            In response the youth placed one hand over the other and held his arms out in front of him. For a split second there was nothing, and then on the ground in front of him a ball of what looked like green flame began to grow. Bobby looked on in astonishment. Once the orb reached a certain size, it stopped growing but the flames became hotter. Small rivers of sweat ran down Shiro's face and after a minute he dropped his hands.

            "It will explode now," he stated almost casually. With bulging eyes, Bobby threw his arms out towards the orb and encased it in a block of ice. Then he focused on dropping the temperature of the ice until all the molecules with in it had stopped moving. Blowing out a long breath, he turned to stare at Shiro, who looked back with an equally amount of curiosity. 

            "You are a mutant." It was not a question. Bobby nodded his head and stood up straight.

            "Yeah, and there are a lot more of us where I come from. We've got this school going. Let me tell you about it."

            Shiro glanced away from a moment, obviously considering the invitation. It gave Bobby time to study the young man further. He was at least four inches shorter than he was but Bobby got the distinct impression that he could and would kick his ass if it was warranted. The way he stood, so straight and stiff, made him think of one of those samurai warrior guys in the movies. All he was missing was a long sword hanging at his side. 

            The stranger nodded his head. "Yes, tell me about this school."

            Bobby grinned and stared walking towards the street, wanting to get as far away from the small nuclear bomb as he could. "It's really cool and everyone's really nice. Except for this one guy Roberto. He's an. . . ."

                        **********************************************

            "Okay, listen up."

            Storm set her hands on her hips and looked over her group. They all looked back, wondering if Storm was finally going to go natural disaster on them. She wasn't; not that she hadn't considered it about fifty times. But she reminded herself that they were young and this was a learning experience for them. And they were all blind idiots. 

            "We've had a few set backs, but that's okay. Things like this happen occasionally. It's all part of learning how to become a team," she continued. 

            "What?" Tabitha asked, snapping her gum. The scream that Theresa had given her had caused her to become temporarily hearing impaired. Next to her, Amara scribbled down what Storm had said in a notebook they had bought for that reason and showed it to her. Tabitha skimmed it. "Oh."

            "Now, there are two more young women that we have to speak with, and they both happen to attend this school. Professor Xavier called up the school and set up a meeting with them."

            "Maybe you should take the meeting Storm," Amara said, glancing up from her dictation. "I mean, we're not having a lot of luck here."

            "Yeah, it looks so easy when the X-men do it," Roberto chimed in. 

            On the way over to the school, Storm had been thinking about doing just that. After all, they wanted to recruit some new students to the school and all they were managing was to scare a bunch of them off. But she heard the defeat that was heavy in Roberto and Amara's voices. If she took the meeting, it would be like telling them they had all failed. Of course, they _had all failed but not because they hadn't tried their best. They were all just hopelessly incompetent. Maybe it was something they would grow out of. So instead of accepting Roberto's suggestion, she shook her head and reminded them,_

            "You are all X-men. Now, who wants to give this a try?" she asked. 

            Amara kept her head down and looked everywhere but at Storm, a sure sign that the girl was not the least bit interested in attempting to persuade anyone to go anywhere. Sam met her eyes but looked like he might throw up at any moment. Roberto and Tabitha had already had their shots, and they didn't look interested in trying either. The only one who appeared to be both cool and confident, was little Jamie Madrox. When she looked at him, he smiled his sweet smile and nodded his head.

            "I'll do it Storm. Let me try."

            "Alright Jamie," she agreed, careful to hide her own smile. "They're meeting in room 201. It's the second one on the left after you enter. Good luck."

            They all watched as he ran towards the building and up the front steps, hoping he wouldn't trip and accident shoot out half a dozen duplicates of himself. But he made it to the front doors without incident and, after tugging them open, he slipped inside. Roberto shook his head and glanced over at Storm.

            "Is that such a good idea? I mean, Jamie's so small. What if they hurt him?" he asked. 

            "Nah, I don't think they will. Not even Rogue can hurt him and she never turns down an opportunity to kick someone's ass," Sam answered, keeping his eyes on the school. If it seemed like Jamie was in trouble, he was going to blast in and rescue the little fellow.

            "So what did you say to Theresa anyways?" Amara was asking Tabitha. 

            "What?"

            Sighing, Amara scribbled down her question and shoved the paper underneath her friend's nose. The blonde haired rebel read it and then chuckled. 

            "I told her she wouldn't be able to bring her leprechauns."

            "Why - " catching herself, Amara wrote down what she was going to say and handed it over again. Tabitha shrugged after reading it.

            "I thought it would be funny. I don't think she got it though."

            "Storm, what are we going to do about Bobby?" Roberto asked, as the minutes dragged on and there was no sign of Jamie. Sighing, Storm remembered that they had left Bobby in that garbage bin. Sam nodded his head.

            "Yeah, he probably escaped by now."

            "Hopefully he will meet us at the designated leaving point," Storm said grimly, folding her arms. "Otherwise we will simply leave him here."

            Sam and Roberto abruptly turned their attentions elsewhere and wisely withheld any further questions.

                        ****************************************

            Nearly half an hour had passed before Jamie, a.k.a. "Multiple", finally re-emerged from the school. To everyone's distinct amazement, he had two attractive young ladies on either side of him. One had long dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and the other had a tumbling mass of green curls. Not a color you see every day. Both girls looked curious and at ease as they made their way towards the group. Jamie walked with them like a miniature pimp. He presented them to Storm with a bright, cheerful smile.

            "This is Elizabeth Braddock," he introduced, motioning to the girl with the ponytail. And, pointed to the green haired girl, he added, "And this is Lorna Dane." Then he turned back to the rest of the group.

            "They'd really like to see the school and meet the Professor."


	19. And Sometimes You Don't

            Author's Note**

                        Hmmm, now we're getting into serious dramatic territory here. We're talking tremendous battle sequences, betrayal, lust, hell it's Star Wars 2 minus the big budget and the crappy writing. Well, maybe not this chapter . . . but eventually.

            Meanwhile the X-men and their present company were cooped up in the X-Jet, flying soundlessly over the swirling waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Tensions between several different members of the collective group made the space seem even more crowded than it already was. Cyclops was having a really, really hard time getting over the fact that Avalanche and his psycho buddy had torched his clothes. Especially since Logan had hauled him out back and beaten him until he had cried like a baby the night before. Now granted that hadn't taken very much effort since Cyclops often cried while watching those commercials about adopting a child in Africa. Jean tried to coax him out of his grouchy mood but she could only take so much of his whining and eventually gave up and went to sleep.

            Avalanche wasn't exactly enjoying the spoils of his victory against his rival though. He was far too busy burning holes in the back of Kitty's head with his eyes. He and Pyro were sitting behind Shadowcat and her new metal skinned love interest Colossus. Since they had been paired together the two had been pretty much inseparable. At the sound of her giggling at another one of the Russian's dumb jokes, Avalanche felt his left eye begin to tic. What the hell did she see in that guy anyway? Sure he had bulging muscles but he could barely speak English. Well fine, forget her. She could run off with whoever she wanted to. He sure as hell didn't care. Folding his arms across his chest, he glared out the window, trying to convince himself of that one important fact.

            But the worst of the tension had settled near the back of the high tech jet, just over the heads of the two members of the miss-matched group that had the most in common. From their Southern roots to the dark secrets that each carried buried within their souls, they were more alike than either one of them would have ever admitted. Gambit sat on the inside, his long legs cramped, and stared out the window much in the same way Avalanche was. For the first time in all his young life, his heart hurt, a dull ache that increased the longer he was around her. He could smell her dark perfume; why the hell did she have to wear perfume on a mission? But then he wasn't sure if she was wearing it or if he was just remembering it. Every time her arm brushed his he had to force himself to keep from jerking. What was worse was that there was no escape from what he was feeling. His cards didn't even interest him anymore. There was only her, and the fact that he couldn't have her made her all the more alluring. But somehow he knew that even if he had her, the feeling would always be there. A heavy tugging on his soul.

            Rogue wasn't faring much better. Sitting next to him was a brutal reminder of all the simple pleasures in life that she had to do without. Running her fingers along someone's cheek, feeling someone do the same. She couldn't even pet a fucking dog for Christ sake, let alone another human being. A human being she found she desperately wanted to touch. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wrapped her hands around the mug that had at one point held water in it. It was empty now. If she thought about it, she could bring back the faint taste of the Cajun. One second hadn't been nearly long enough. Her fingers began to tingle strongly and when she opened her eyes, she saw that her mug was glowing brightly in the same way she had seen his cards do.

            "Uh . . . Gambit?" she asked quietly, staring at the mug with widened eyes. His gaze remained fixed out the window.

            "Wha'?"

            "How do yah turn this thing off?"

            That got him to turn his head and when he caught sight of the charged mug he lifted his red eyes to hers. Curiosity swam in them. Without looking away, he reached one hand over and placed it on top of hers. She could feel him drain the energy out of the object. Once it was empty, he left his hands where they were and the two stared at each other for a long moment, each trying to read what the other was trying to keep hidden. Then Rogue's eyes slid away and Gambit removed the mug from her limp fingers, just to be safe.

            "So. . . Rogue," he began, using her name for the first time, something that did not go unnoticed by her, "you took de power wit'out takin' de instructional manual, oui?"

            Swallowing, she forced herself to look over at him. He was watching her with a mixture of curiosity and hurt on his face. "Ah didn't touch ya long enough to git more'n one memory or so," she explained, feeling as if her throat were raw. His eyes narrowed shrewdly at that bit of information.

            "An' wha' memory would dat be?"

            Because it seemed to be important for him to know, Rogue filtered through her mind for it. It didn't take very long; he'd been the first person she had absorbed since the Professor had wiped all the other memories out. She brought the single memory to the front of her brain and focused on it.

            "It's a lahke . . . no, a rivah. Yah go there when it's dark, when the watah jus' creeps along and there ain't another sound in the world." She brought her eyes back to his. "Where is that place?"

            Gambit was quiet for a moment before he answered, almost reluctantly. "Near de delta. Gambit go dere sometimes when life be too Northern (fast) fer his likin'."

            Leaning her head back against the seat, Rogue was reminded of home. How long had it been since she had come to Bayville? Couple years now. She missed the hot, damp air full of the muddy smells of the Mississippi and she missed hearing people talk like they were breathing in molasses.

            "Ah used to sit along the shore of the rivah and watch it trudge along. Not mattah what was goin' on in mah life, it was always movin' on."

            "Rien arrête le Mississippi." (Nothing stops the Mississippi) She smiled and shook her head.

            "Pas même Dieu se." (Not even God himself) Looking at him, she thought about what she had said before, the way she had said it. Sighing quietly, she started to apologize, "Gambit, Ah'm -"

            But he interrupted her before she could. "Have you evah ben to Orleans, cherie?" he asked, his usual cockiness settling back into place. This time it didn't annoy her quite as much as it had in the past, though it was still annoying. She nodded her head.

            "Couple times, yeah. Wah?"

            "You familiar wit' a place called Les Trois Feux?" The name didn't ring any bells in her head.

            "No."

            He grinned and settled himself more comfortably in his seat. "Let Gambit tell you 'bout one o' his more memorable nights in Les Trois Feux. . ."

                        ***********************************************

            "Okay, so let me get this straight. This guy you're working for sent you out to do run this errand for him. You're going to do it; meanwhile you're also planning on destroying him later on? Is that right?"

            Mr. Meanie . . . ahem, Mr. Sinister had his back to Wanda when he answered, as a result his voice was a little muffled. "Yes, that's the plan."

            Shaking her head, Wanda sat down on a boulder and squinted against the bright burning sun of Egypt. "I don't get it. Why waste your time doing the errand then, if you're planning on killing him? I mean it's probably just going to backfire on you anyways."

            Sighing in exasperation, he turned around. Small beads of sweat glistened on his silver skin. "Look, I have to do this to keep him from suspecting anything. The last thing I want is for him to know that I'm trying to undermine him. Get it?"

            Wanda shrugged and lifted one hand in half a shrug. "I bet he already knows. It's not really something you can hide from someone else. I mean, the desire to kill someone is pretty obvious. Maybe you guys just have some issues that you need to talk about. Get it all out in the open. It might help."

            He stared at her blankly for a full twenty seconds. "Are you mentally unbalanced or something?"

            "Actually, yes."

            Clamping his hands over his face, Mr. Sinister muffled his own frustrated yell. Of ALL the people he could have enticed to the dark side, he had to pick the ONE FREAKIN' psychotic who had been through counseling at one point in her life. No wonder it had been so easy to tempt her. Dammit, now he was stuck with her

            "Look," he growled, dropping his hands and trying to keep from exploding, "just do what I told you to do. And NO MORE QUESTIONS!" With that he slammed a foot down, spun on his heel, and stalked back into the darkness of the cave. Wanda watched him until he disappeared and then turned back to stare across the shimmering sands. She had to be ready when the X-men came a callin'.


	20. An Angel Will Fall From The Sky

                Author's Note**

                        Just so you guys know I do collect on soul offerings . . .

            In one word, Egypt was hot. Blistering hot. Blistering, walking on sunshine hot. Blistering, walking-

            _God it's boring out here, Cyclops thought as he wiped sweat from his forehead. The group of thirteen trailed along across the white sand, their eyes constantly on the move in search of danger. A little ways ahead of them stood their intended destination; a stack of cliffs piled against the sky. That's where Mesmero and maybe that Apocalypse were supposed to be. Xavier had warned that it was entirely possible that Mesmero had already secured the final key. They needed to be ready for anything. About halfway between their landing spot and the cliffs were a fairly large cluster of trees, a spot of green in a land of white. An oasis. __Weird. I wonder what the people who live here do for fun. Hang out at the oasis? Do they listen to Oasis? Where do they plug in their radios then? Cyclops dropped his head down and stared at the sand that kicked up when he walked. __Hey, maybe they make sandcastles? Turning his head, he asked,_

            "Hey Jean! You wanna make sandcastles?"

            Jean stared at him silently. "You're dead to me," was her reply before she flew off to be next to someone who wouldn't lower her IQ simply by breathing. Cyclops watched her go and frowned.

            "I meant after the mission," he muttered to himself. Every time he tried to break out of his anal retentive mold, somebody was always slapping him back. Didn't they understand that all he wanted, all he needed was a little understanding and a little love?

            Out in front of the group, Wolverine paused and sniffed at the air. The dry heat burned his nose and played tricks on it. All he could smell was sun and sand and decay. His claws extended almost unconsciously. He felt like they were walking right into a trap of some sorts and it bothered him that he couldn't scent it. 

            "Hey Fairy Boy," he called gruffly. Eyes narrowed, Angel stalked over, the feathers on his wings ruffled, a sign he was angry.

            "It's Angel. You call me Fairy Boy again and I'll-"

            Wolverine lifted one of his arms up until his hand rested on the youth's shoulder, claws directed at his fleshy throat. "You'll what, exactly?"

            Angel swallowed; he could feel the metal even through his suit. "Nothing," he amended.

            "That's what I thought. Now, do me a favor and scout up a head a bit. And be careful," Wolverine stated, turning his gaze back on the shifting sands. "I think we're being watched."

            After carefully easing himself away from the adamantine knives of death, Angel gave a firm nod and pushed himself up into the air with a couple beats of his powerful wings. It took him a moment before he caught the current of the air. Without much effort, he went gliding forward, blocking out the sun for a brief second. His flight went uninterrupted until he passed over the oasis and then, without any warning at all he plunged downward into the trees, almost as if something had dragged him down.

            "Christ," Wolverine muttered darkly as the rest of the group rushed forward after witnessing the dive.

            "What happened to Fairy Boy?" Toad chirped, staring off in that direction.

            "I told the kid to be careful. I didn't say go plunge headlong into a grove of trees," he growled more to himself than anyone else. A bit of confusion ran through the group. 

            "Um . . . Wolverine? Like, shouldn't we go rescue him?" Shadowcat asked when she thought it was safe to speak.

            Wolverine squinted his eyes toward the oasis and gave a short nod. "Yeah, he's probably busted up a bit. Come on, and this time everyone be careful okay? That means stay . . . clear. . . . of . . . DANGER!"

            "You're going to have to be a lot more than careful to stay clear of danger."

            Everyone turned at the sound of a low and very familiar voice. Sure enough, there was crazy Wanda Maximoff standing just a few feet from them, looking the very definition of calm and collective. Psychotic people always do at times like those. Immediately Wolverine went into his fighting stance, each claw ready to impose the maximum amount of damage. 

            "You plannin' on taking us all on, girlie?" he asked.

            She smirked and held her arms out innocently. "What, do I look crazy?" Then she threw her head back and laughed while everyone else looked on in puzzlement. Abruptly she quieted and frowned at them, settling her hands on her hips. "It was a joke. Pfsh. Of course I'm planning on taking you all on. Unless," she added, looking Wolverine straight in the eyes, "you don't think you could best one little girl."

            Wolverine raised his claws and struck them together, causing a shower of sparks to rain down. "Let's rumble."

                        ***********************************

            Angel was hurt, and hurt badly. He had fallen before, broken bones and bruised muscles. But none of the injuries sustained in his boyhood days compared in the least bit to the searing, screaming pain that was raging through him now. His wings were shredded; he could tell. He could feel the blood dripping from them run down his back and stain his uniform. Nausea swam through him and a few times he thought that blackness would overtake him. It would have been a welcome relief. His only comfort came in the fact that he was on his side, unable to move and unable to see the damage for himself. But it was bad. He didn't need to see it to know that.

            The pain muddled his brain so much that he could only think of it and not about what had dragged him down from the sky. One moment he had been above the ground, resisting gravity and then suddenly it had been as if he had weighed a thousand tons. It had almost been like the earth had reached up and pulled him down, angry that he would dare to rise above her. _Oh god, I'll never fly again. Just let me die, Warren thought, laying his head down against the coarse sand. For years he had tried to hide his wings and now that he stood the lose them, it cut terribly into his heart. To never feel the wind rush over him, to never view the world as a tiny speck devoid of unpleasantness. And the pain, god the pain. __Just let me die._

            _Come, fallen one. Come and I shall heal thy grievous wounds._

            The voice was low and soothing with its archaic choice of words. Warren shifted his head and did his best to look up, but could see no one.

            "Who's there? Where are you?" he croaked, his head feeling light from his loss of blood. The pain began to recede under a thick heavy white fog that played at the edge of his mind. 

            _Come. Thy pain is great. Suffer no more._

_            "Where are you?" Warren repeated, his voice beginning to slur. His eyes blurred and doubled but he thought he could make out the shape of a man just a few yards in front of him. Slowly he began to drag himself forward over the sand._

            _Yes, come. Heed my voice and follow._

            High up in the branches of the few trees that grew in the desert, a pair of wings hung dripping.

                        *********************************

            "I don't want to hurt you," Wolverine snarled as he circled Wanda. He motioned with one quick motion of a hand for everyone else to stay back. Wanda rolled her eyes and laughed.

            "Sure you do. You want to hurt everyone." She lifted one hand and held it towards him. Blue electricity ran over and between her fingers and Wolverine tensed. Unpredictable events were the worst kind to come up against and there wasn't much more unpredictable than the witch daughter of Magneto. There was a calm silence that settled down over that small area of the world, like the seconds before a tornado sets down and turns things to hell. Wanda gave one slow wink. Then she threw her hand to the left of Wolverine, sending out her cursed touch.

            A high powered, uncontrolled burst of plasma energy shot forward out of Cyclops' eyes and slammed into Wolverine, sending him vaulting forward. He raised himself halfway up and then fell forward again and remained still. The rest of the group immediately sprang into action as superheroes do but Wanda had enough tricks up her sleeve for everyone. Jean reached out with her telekinesis, intending to lift the Scarlet Witch off her feet and send her flying. In response Wanda shifted her other hand and the invisible hand curved, snatching up an unsuspecting Toad instead. Before Jean could release it Toad went streaking through the air, crashing into Avalanche and sending the two rolling. 

Colossus started forward, his metal skin clanking down as he went and Pyro shot two lines of flame to flank him. They took the shape of two wild stallions. Wanda smiled.

            Lifting both hands she flung her talent outward with no restraints. Colossus halted in mid stride and stared down at himself. His metal armor began forcefully retracting itself back inside his skin and the pain dropped him down to one knee. The stallions marched on until they met the wall of Wanda's will and turned to charge straight back at their creator. 

Gambit stepped in front of Rogue as the flaming horses rode by chasing one extremely frightened Pyro. An Ace of Spades appeared in one of his gloved hands, his trump card, and he set it to charge with a brief thought.

            "Compliments of de house, sorcière," he stated with all his usual flair. Wanda turned her eyes on him just as he let the card fly with what looked like an almost casual gesture. It exploded only a second after it left his hand and the force of the blast sent him flying back into Shadowcat who abruptly found herself nearly smothered beneath a man she was not at all acquainted with. Rogue was bounced off to the right and was caught by an ever helpful Blob. Unfortunately for him she had tugged off one of her gloves before the chaos had begun and it was now pressed against the one of his large arms. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards unconscious, leaving Rogue stunned as he flowed into her.

            _Ah really hate that. She pushed herself up off of Blob and shifted her green eyes to Wanda. The sorceress stood surveying the carnage she had managed to create all by her lonesome. Feeling her temper stir, Rogue stalked towards her with the intent of exploring just how many of her newly discovered powers she could wield at the same time. Stiring Rogue's temper never led to a happy, positive occasion. But Wanda apparently had finished her showdown and wasn't about to start another one. She gave Rogue a brief salute and ran off, her long coat flapping behind her. _

            Rogue stared after her, surrounded by her so recently battered teammates, most of who were getting back onto their feet. They had begun with thirteen, now they were down to ten. _But Irene had said there would be twelve. Where the hell are we going to pick up two more mutants?_


	21. Anybody Got A Map?

            Author's Note**

                        Alright, since we're so close to the end, I'm going to refrain from posting until I have the whole story finished. Shouldn't take me longer than a couple days. I want to go out with a bang after all. Oh, and my old English is a little rusty.

            "He's definitely out cold," Cyclops stated after flipping Wolverine onto his back. Seeing the wolfish man unconscious was something new to the X-team, who had become accustom to him simply getting up no matter how much punishment he took. _Just goes to show that we aren't cartoon characters, Cyclops thought grimly._

            A few yards away Gambit straightened and brushed his hair back from his lean face. "'Dis one out, too," he said, motioning down towards the motionless form of the Blob. He cast his gaze over towards Rogue, impressed at how easily she had taken out the large boy, however mistakenly it may have been. "Some touch you got 'dere cherie."

            "That's what they all say." She glanced around at the figures that were still standing. "Is everyone else alright?"

            There were a few moments of quiet while everyone shifted and looked over each other. Shadowcat was the first to notice that they were missing someone. "Like, where's Kurt?" she asked, not noticing the furry blue elf in the small crowd.

            "He was right next to me where it started," Jean recalled once everyone else had confirmed that Nightcrawler was no where around. They weren't kept in the dark for very long. Not more than a few seconds after Jean had spoken, he teleported in with his usual sulfuric cloud. His eyes were large and he remained extremely still, as if he were afraid to move an inch.

            "Vow, dat vas really veird," were the words that came tumbling out of his mouth.

            "What happened to you?" Cyclops asked, turning away from the limp body of Wolverine. Nightcrawler shrugged and ran one three fingered hand through his hair.

            "I don't know. I teleported, thinking I vould catch Vanda off guard. The next thing I knew, I vas . . . stuck. Not here and not there. Very strange." He shuddered. "I don't vant to talk about it. I don't vant to _think about it."_

            Frowning, Rogue lifted one hand to her brow to shade her eyes from the bright sun as she looked off towards the cliffs they had been heading towards. "Well, now wha' are we sup'ose to do?"

            A blast of wind tore through suddenly, kicking up a small dust storm that lasted for about thirty seconds. When it died down, Cyclops stood staring at those same cliffs, striking as heroic of a pose as he could manage. He clenched his jaw and puffed out his chest, figuring it would make him look even manlier than he already did.

            "We go after Mesmero. We've got to stop this Apocalypse," he said, going for a bold and brave tone. Unfortunately, he just sounded like Scott Summers, uninspirational leader. A few feet away Jean rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath,

            "So says the boy who wanted to make sandcastles."

            Gambit leaned on his Bo, more than ready to use it. The little confrontation with Wanda had fired up his blood; now he wanted a chance to unleash it on something. Didn't matter much who or what that something was. Still, it wouldn't look good to be too gun-ho for optic boy's plan. He had a reputation to uphold.

            "An' wha' do we do with 'dese fellas, garçon (boy)?" he drawled, motioning with one hand towards the two fallen mutants. Cyclops considered the question for a moment.

            "We'll have to leave them in the oasis and come back from them later," he answered finally. Rogue kneeled down next to Blob and raised an eyebrow.

            "How are we sup'ose to get them over there? Wolverine won't be too hard, but this one is probably unmovable," she pointed out, tapping the larger boy's shoulder. 

            "You've drained him. You'll be able to lift and carry him."

            She rolled her eyes at their fearless leader. "How 'bout ya lift and carry him and Ah'll be the big bad gal in charge?"

            Cyclops stepped forward. "Are you calling me a girl?"

            "No, Ah'd neva insult mah gender like that."

            "Oh for crying out loud, you two!" Throwing her hands up in exasperation, Jean used her formidable mind powers to lift both the Blob and Wolverine off the ground and float them over to the shade of the oasis. She set them both down gently, and then turned on first Cyclops and then Rogue.

            "For once in your life Scott, don't be such a cry baby! And Rogue, why the hell can't you just do something when someone asks you to?"

            Rogue shrugged and grinned. "Because Ah know that if Ah bitch enough, you'll flip out and do it for me and save me the trouble. Now, are we gonna go kick some ass or stand around here and bake like Christmas cookies?" she replied, starting off towards the cliffs on the horizon. Everyone stared after her, still and silent. Then a low, long chuckle sounded. Shaking his head, Gambit started after her using his Bo as a walking stick.

            "De cherie shore gots a way of speakin'," he said out loud as he passed through the group. _Gambit think he might be in love._

            One by one, the others followed knowing there wasn't any other option. Any threat to the world had to be challenged, no matter what the cost. No matter how many they had to leave behind. 

            *****************************************

            While the X-men and their companions were making their way across the desert towards the mountain side, the greatest evil that the world could ever know was waiting for them. Free after several thousand years of imprisonment, the massive mutant was content in knowing that soon enough all would be within his grasp or crushed beneath his heel. He was not angered by his captivity; what does time mean to one who was immortal? Those years he had passed in darkness had given him ample time to construct his plans. First were those that would bring the world to its knees before him. And then there were those plans to carry out once mankind, as well as mutantkind, had been enslaved.

            Beside the one ancient people had dubbed Apocalypse stood his general, his silvery skin reflecting even within the darkness of the cave. There was impatience brewing within his body, though he was no longer ailed by the passage of time. But he had once been human, and some things are impossible to strip away.

            "Be still, Essex. The beating of thy heart is bothersome in mine ears."

            Sinister turned his beady black eyes on his monstrous master and could not stop the trembling. Not far from them lay the still form of the mutant Mesmero. It had been his life force that had been the third and final key, a fact that Apocalypse had not mentioned in his dealings with him. And Mesmero had realized it just a moment or so too late to save himself and the world. Sinister did not want to think about what his master would do if he were to find out his servant was plotting to destroy him and claim all as his own. 

            "These are strong mutants," he began, his throat dry, "and I-"

            "And thy believest that they shalt destroy me. Why shouldst that concern thee, Sinister? Is that not thine own intention?" Apocalypse interrupted, bringing his burning gaze down onto his servant. The trembling pleased him; the treachery was of no concern. Sinister was spineless and weak. Gods do not fear the mortals they toy with. So, ignoring the sputtering protests of the man once known as Nathaniel Essex, he commanded,

            "Gather to me mine horseman."

            ***************************************************

            It didn't take very long for them to reach the mountain side. Once there though, the true difficulty of their task was revealed to them. Littering the cliffs were hundreds and perhaps thousands of caves, each one looking nearly identical to the other. There was absolutely no way of knowing which one Mesmero and his master were hiding in. 

            "Like, how are we supposed to find them now? We can't possibly search every single cave. That would like take forever!" Shadowcat exclaimed, staring up and feeling a tad bit disheartened. She had not appreciated the trek over the shifting sands of dirt and she was not going to appreciate trekking through hundreds of dirty damp caves either. She had however, appreciated walking behind Colossus and checking out his fine ass. That boy had one tight booty!

            Cyclops scanned the surrounded area, feeling every bit as daunted as Shadowcat. "We could break up into groups," he suggested in a tone that suggested he didn't even think that was a good idea. Nightcrawler perched himself up on a nearby boulder to get a better view and he shook his head.

            "Ve are already less than Irene said. I vonder if that vill count against us?"

            Standing next to Rogue, Gambit stared up and let out a quiet whistle. "C'est impossible, cherie," he murmured so the others couldn't hear him. Not that they were paying much attention anyway. "'Dere is no way we'd get to all 'dem caves. We'd need a miracle."

            He had only half her attention though. Her sharp green eyes had caught onto a sight that had her lips curving slightly. "Nah. We just need some luck, that's all. Do ya believe in luck, Gambit?" she asked mysteriously.

            "Now 'dat be a silly question to ask a thief, cherie. Whatchu playin' at?"

            In response, she lifted her arm up and pointed with one finger to a cave about midway up the side of the mountain. "That's the cave we want," she said. "That's the one."

            Gambit took hold of her arm when she began to climb and tugged until she faced him. "How do you know 'dat?"

            She smiled and shook free. "Ah'm a good guesser. Get the others, will ya?" And with that she started up while he stood staring at her stupidly. Shaking his head, hell if she didn't confuse the hell out of him, he called back to the others and started up after her, picking his way over the path that was barely a path. 

            Halfway up the mountain side, sitting on a ledge outside of a cave that looked like any other cave, was a long necked vulture that looked like any other vulture. Save for one thing.

            Bright yellow eyes.


	22. Fire And Brimstone

            Author's Note**

                        Well, jeepers guys, I had a blast writing this little fic. Here are the final three chapters, lock, stock, and barrel. Hope you enjoy 'em and thanks for all the excellent reviews.

            By the time the group reached the cave Rogue had pointed out, the vulture had already flown off. Inside it was filled with a heavy darkness and it took several moments for their eyes to adjust to the sudden lack of light. Rogue moved about four or five feet into the mouth and then stopped. She motioned with her hand for the others behind to halt as well. There was only the sound of the wind blowing across the sand some hundred feet below. Everyone strained their eyes staring off into the darkness, trying to catch some hint of motion. It was obvious that Rogue was expecting something to happen and no one else was quite sure of what that something was. 

            Then there was movement from straight ahead, a stirring of the air. Tension whipped through the group in expectation of another surprise encounter. The only two mutants who were not high strung were Rogue, because she happened to have a good idea of who was coming towards them, and Gambit, who figured if whoever it was that was coming towards them was threatening, he'd just blow them to high hell. Simple enough, really. The others weren't so lucky to have his backwater attitude, so they sweated a bit.

            From out the shadows came Mystique and she came to a stop a few feet from Rogue. The tension within the group members didn't exactly disappear. All the tricks and troubles she had ever pulled on them were still all quite fresh in their minds. Blowing up someone's home will certainly give you that kind of reputation.

            Still a little irked about her kidnapping him and dropping him off in the middle of Mexico, Cyclops pushed his way forward, one hand poised on his visor. 

            "Just what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

            Rogue beat her adoptive mother to the answer. _"The one with many faces shall show them the way," she quoted with a smile completely devoid of humor. Mystique's yellow eyes held surprise in them._

            "Irene told you everything then?"

            "Well, Ah wouldn't say everything. But we got the gist of it."

            "Um, like I hate to break into the family reunion, but we still only have eleven people here," Shadowcat pointed out after she had counted everyone personally. Frowning, she pulled her sock and shoe back on and added, "Well, I guess you could actually like, count Pyro as two people. I mean he like totally talks to himself all the time so it's like having another person around."

            The sound of metal claws extending punctuated her whimsical statement and the light filtering in from the opening of the cave dimmed as a figure stepped into it. Eleven heads rotated to see Wolverine making his way towards them looking a bit worn around the edges, but still fully functional. 

            "Don't count the old man out," he stated gruffly, taking his customary place in the group out front. He glanced over at Mystique and gave a little nod of his head. "Lead the way, smurfette."

            Mystique gave him a searing look that clearly said just what she thought about that particular nickname but instead of responding, she turned on her heel and plunged farther into the cave, expecting everyone else to follow. There was no other choice. They moved along in the faint light that managed to travel in from the cave's opening. After about fifty feet or so, the cave wall gave an abrupt turn to the right and suddenly light could be found in abundance. Burning torches lined the walls of a large hallway, at the end of which they could see a towering doorway. The door itself was missing in action. Bad news already. More was on the way. Apparently their arrival had not gone unannounced. 

            When they were halfway to the door four figures emerged from the shadows of the doorway. First was a man, broad of shoulder and back, seated on a horse that clamored forward with metal limbs. He held himself rigidly in the saddle and the look he had fixated on his face was not a hey-how-are-ya-doin' expression. With a slight pull on the reins, he halted his mechanical steed and waited.

            Behind him lumbered the same old woman Gambit and Storm had come across in the dank sewers under the city. Her ragged clothes had been replaced with a simple flowing robe and the way it hung around her gave her the appearance of a witch of olden times. Once tangled hair flowed smoothly as well, though nothing had changed in her face. It remained wrinkled and stretched and home to those pale blue eyes that had been so mocking. She came to a halt beside the man and waited.

            And next came another woman, younger than the old crone though it was nearly impossible to tell that. Her face was so gaunt that it added years to her that she had not yet seen. The rest of her body, that which could be seen poking out from heavy folds of clothing, was just as thin and emaciated. Her eyes swept over the twelve and she hissed through her teeth before coming beside the crone. She waited.

            Finally through that door of darkness, there came one more; someone no one expected to see. His entire body was covered with a black suit, including much of his head. The face that stared out at them that was so recognizable was completely devoid of any expression whatsoever. Folded behind him, swinging slightly as he slowly moved forward, was an enormous pair of dangerously sharp looking metal wings. He came to stand beside the young woman and shock ran through the twelve mutants who had never expected they might be fighting one of their own.

            "Angel?" Jean asked in a whisper that echoed through the length of the hallway. "What are you doing?"

            The smile that came to Warren Worthington the third's face was cold and hollow, without any hint of the warmth and charm that had been so much a part of the golden haired boy. As was his voice when he replied,

            "Angel was weak and has fallen. From the ashes of his remains rises Death from which no one can flee. Surrender now and your lives will be spared should you chose to pledge allegiance to our master." His eyes, once so pure a blue, flashed a burning red. "Refuse and you shall perish. Chose quickly."

            "Gee, could we like get any more Shakespearean here?" Shadowcat muttered quietly to help take her mind off the fact she was shaking like a leaf. A little more shaken than she would have cared to admit, Rogue assumed her typical annoyed look and set one hand on her hip, hoping her voice wouldn't crack.

            "Now sugah, don't you be rushing us. This master of yers, does he give any kind of 401k plan or some health benefits? Come on, entice us, really. Ah don't feel like yer really one hundred percent behind yer product."

            Again Death's eyes burned while the rest of the twelve all gaped at Rogue, wondering if hanging out with Wanda hadn't somehow damaged her brain. 

            "It is unwise to mock the will of our master. The consequences will be severe."

            "Good going Rogue," Avalanche said darkly, not looking forward to finding out what he meant by severe.

            Rogue ignored him; she had half a plan formed in her mind and was making the rest up as she went along. Because that's what heroes really do.

            "Well Ah jus' don't see yer master anywhere. What kinda all powerful bein' is he if he can't take care of twelve weak mutants on his own?" she asked, baiting him. It was obvious now that Apocalypse was free, but what was still unclear was whether or not he was still nearby. Death's answer failed to clarify.

            "He does not soil his hands upon those unworthy."

            "Ah suppose that means that we're unworthy. Didja hear that guys? We all better go have ourselves a little cry."

            Irritation flickered across the solid mask of Death's face. "Though you try my patience, I give you one last chance. Give your allegiance."

            With one hand behind her back, Rogue motioned for everyone to ready themselves. They had one hell of a fight on their hands. Then she sifted through her mind until she found what she was looking forward. After all, she wanted to make sure she gave the right . . . response. A tingling burning sensation fired up behind her eyes.

            "Here's mah allegiance," she retorted and, taking a page from Cyclops' book, she blasted out a beam of red plasma energy.

            And it began.


	23. It's The End Of The World As We Know It

            Having lost none of his innate grace, the mutant formerly known as Angel sidestepped the blast with ease and took to the air with one powerful thrust of his new wings. Small, feather like objects shot out from them, whipping past Rogue into the group of twelve and sending X-men and others scattering to avoid them. The other three horsemen came charging in after them, just as ready and willing to do as much damage as they could possibly manage. 

            One of Death's feather projectiles screamed its way towards Shadowcat and, closing her eyes, she let it pass through her as she had so many times before. It entered and exited without any visible damage but right away she knew that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Her chest was suddenly filled with an itching fire that spread into her arms and down into her stomach and legs. Her throat went terribly dry and, gagging, she dropped to her knees feeling as if she was choking on the very air she was trying to draw in. The muscles in her body gave a spastic jerk and she fell forward.

            Avalanche saw her fall and despite his earlier attempts at forgetting about her, anger flared up inside him as it never had before. Clenching his fists and growling in what would have been a fair imitation of Wolverine, his eyes rolled back and he set the earth to shaking, not caring if he brought the whole goddamn mountain down on top of them all. He wasn't the only one who noticed that Shadowcat had been hurt. With his metal skin sliding into place, Colossus stormed forward over the trembling ground, his sights set on bringing Death down from the sky. His way however was block by the man on the metal horse. With one large hand Colossus reached out to pull War down from his beast, irritated that he had gotten in his path. Grinning gleefully, War dropped his reins, drew his arms back and brought his hands together with a tremendous clash that sent Colossus hurling backwards into the side of the mountain wall. The Russian blasted through rock and did not reemerge. 

            Bits of stone began to fall from the ceiling and walls as Avalanche continued to shake the earth. The quake abruptly was ended when a hand was pressed against the side of his face. From where the five fingers had touched, fever spread throughout him. Releasing his control of the earthquake, he stumbled to the side as sickness overtook him. Nightcrawler saw the old crone bearing down on Avalanche and teleported over, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her backwards. She merely reached out and grabbed one of his hands, sending disease spiraling into him as well. He fell.

            Cyclops had the answer for her. Lifting a hand to his visor, he hit her with a full blast, hoping that he wasn't going to go to help for mowing down an old woman. _One down, three to go, he thought, turning to take a quick survey of the battlefield. They had already lost four, which brought the odds down to eight against three. __Make that seven against three, he added as he watched Toad be blasted off by one of War's concussive blasts. __No, six against three. Mystique joined him. __Five. Pyro went next._

            Closer to the open doorway, Rogue grappled with Famine, careful not to let the younger girl touch her skin. From the way she was reaching out with her stick like fingers, Rogue gathered that would be a bad thing. If she wasn't in very real danger of being killed, she might have laughed at the irony. Most people didn't want to touch her. Finally, when she got the girl's arm held far apart, she blasted her with Cyclops' eye beam and sent her flying backwards through the doorway. She was really starting to like that little ability. From above her she heard the beat of wings and as soon as she looked up, she felt a sharp pinch at her neck. Reaching up she pulled one of Death's feathers from her skin and swooned as its poison raced through her. Shadowcat had only caught a mild dose of it when it had passed through her; Rogue unfortunately caught the full blast.

            Wolverine and Gambit were taking care of War when she dropped like a bag of stones to the ground. Swiping with one claw, Wolverine took the front two legs of the horse clear off, throwing the man forward. He started towards him, intent on finishing him himself when he saw Rogue lying still. Instantly he changed directions, calling over his shoulder to the young Cajun,

            "Finish him Gumbo."

            More the willing, Gambit tipped his hand and made the Ace of Spades appear between his fingers. "My pleasure," he replied offhandedly before idly tossing the charged card. He had already turned in the direction Wolverine had headed when it exploded, effectively ending War's conquest then and there. It didn't take Gambit very long to see Rogue as well and the sight was like a clamp over his heart. Panicked, a completely foreign emotion to him, he rushed over to her in time to see Wolverine tugging off one of her gloves. 

            "Que faites-vous?" (What are you doing?)

            "She's been poisoned. And I don't speak french kid," Wolverine snarled in response, tossing the glove aside. But Gambit did not need to translate his question; the answer was obvious enough. Wolverine lifted Rogue's limp hand and pressed it against his face, stiffening as she drained him, even in her semi-unconscious state.

            Gambit didn't wait to see the conclusion. Eyes burning, he turned in search of Death, one thought clear in his mind. The razor winged mutant was engaged with Cyclops and as Gambit approached, he tossed the X-man aside as if he were little more than a doll. Cyclops hit the wall and fell silent. Ready to vanquish his next foe Death launched himself back into the air and found Gambit, no longer smiling his customary smile. 

            "You in trouble now, _oiseau," the Cajun said, his smooth voice filled to the brim with his anger. Death did not think much of the threat, nor of the exploding cards that came his way. He dodged them all easily. _

            "You'll have to do better than that," he taunted. Glaring at the flying mutant, Gambit felt frustration and anger boil together and something clicked in the back of his head, like a key turning in a lock. His entire body began to tingle and he could hear the hum of the air around him. 

            Flapping his wings, Death was unaware that a significant change was taking place in his adversary. He took notice though, when the very air around him began to explode, stealing his flight from him and sending him spiraling towards the ground. At the last minute though, Jean Grey reached out with her mind and caught him.

            "His mind has been twisted. I can fix it," she said in response to the violent look Gambit sent her way. He shrugged, but it didn't make the feeling of violence inside of him go away. Now he REALLY wanted to bust something up. His blood was burning and he had to concentrate hard to keep from setting off explosions everywhere. Turning, he saw that Rogue was sitting up, pressing one hand to her forehead and looking worn but alive. That helped to settle him somewhat. He didn't get very long to enjoy it though.

            Because the real big bad ass evil overlord made his appearance at that very moment. Coming through the doorway with lumbering, pounding footsteps, Apocalypse nearly reached the ceiling of the cave, some fifteen feet up. His beady eyes surveyed the battlefield, littered with fallen bodies. It didn't take him long to realize his four horsemen had all been defeated. Naturally. It was absolutely impossible to get good help those days. Hell it had ALWAYS been difficult to get good help. You always ended up with some screw up. But he had been hopeful this time. Oh well. He'd just have to take care of the remaining few himself and then go find himself some replacements. His gaze settled on Rogue and, lifting one giant hand, he shot a blast of energy towards her.

            The minute Apocalypse had looked at her Gambit had started towards her reading the evil mutant's intention all the way. When the energy blast came barreling out, he was there in time to take it directly in the chest. It blew him onto his back. He gave one groan and then went still. Rogue stared down at him, hearing Irene's voice ringing in her ears,

            _"The Prince of Thieves shall sacrifice life for love and gain heaven in return."_

            "Oh well. At least I hit someone. Any last words, child, before thy meets thy doom?" Apocalypse asked, lifting his arm once more. His victory was close at hand and the possibility of defeat, especially defeat by a lone female mutant, never once crossed his mind. But then, he had never met the mutant called Rogue.

            Slowly her eyes lifted to his and the strength of defiance in them surprised him. She rose gracefully to her feet and started forward until she stood no more than ten feet away from him and the doorway he stood in. There was no feeling of nervousness in her, even though she had only done what she was about to try once before, and she hadn't exactly been completely lucid then. But there wasn't anyone else left. Jean wouldn't be able to do it. It was up to her.

            No one killed her man and got away with it.

            "Yeah, Ah got some last words." She held her hands out to the sides of her and narrowed her eyes while Apocalypse looked upon her with curiosity. No one had ever spoken to him in the tone she was currently using. Perhaps she would be a worthy evil henchman. Before he could make the offer though, she gave him her answer. 

            "Kiss mah ass."

            And then she proceeded to unleash several of her stored abilities on him at once. Cyclops' optic blast nailed him in the chest and combined with Storm's strong gusting winds, drove him backwards. She reached down and, with the strength she had stolen from Juggernaut, she pulled a huge rock from the ground. With a single thought, she charged it and then sent it flying towards the mutant who would enslave the earth. It connected with him and exploded in a blinding flash. Apocalypse was strong though, and it only sent him back a few steps. Those few steps were enough though. Clenching her fists, she slammed her foot down and set the earth in motion once more. Already loosened by Avalanche's previous attempt, the stone doorway began to give way. 

            Seeing his freedom escaping from, Apocalypse howled in frustration and charged towards the doorway he had been pushed back through. But Rogue fed the violent rumblings of the earth and brought down half the mountain on top of him. Dust and debris crashed over her, stinging her eyes and clogging her lungs. Once it settled though, there was no further stirring. Apocalypse had been entombed once more, hopefully forever this time. 

            Rubbing dust from her eyes, Rogue made her way back to where Wolverine and Gambit lay. Wolverine was just coming to his senses and Rogue moved to help him to his feet. She didn't notice though, that Wolverine had removed one of her gloves, and so when she wrapped it around his arm, she sent him straight back into the world of unconsciousness.

            "Dammit," she muttered, setting him back down on the ground and waiting for the flash of dizziness to pass. When it did, she kneeled down beside Gambit and, with shaking fingers, reached out to check his pulse. His eyes fluttered open before she could and when he saw her looking over him, his lips twitched slightly and he coughed.

            "Dis must be heaven, oui?"

            Her smile was weak with relief; he was still alive. "Ah wouldn't exactly call it that, hero," she replied with fondness. He coughed again, harder this time.

            "Oh yea," he said, when the spell had passed. "Gambit saved yore life. He must get some kinda reward den, non?"

            "Shore thing. Anythin' ya want, swamp rat."

            "Well, Gambit, he don't jus' want anythin'." Grimacing, he lifted himself up onto his elbows, despite her protests. "He wants a kiss from his cherie, an' he won't take nothin' less."

            Shaking her head, and abruptly nervous, Rogue started to stand up. "Ah don't think that's such a good idea right now. Yer pretty busted up and we need ta get the others some help."

            But Gambit caught hold of her gloved hand and pulled her down so that their faces were only inches away from each other. He waited a moment for her objection, and when she didn't give one, he tilted his chin up and pressed his lips to hers, bracing himself for the dragging sensation of having his life force pulled from him. 

            There was none, only the sweet, warmth of her mouth against his. He didn't question his good fortune (he never did), just took it and ran with it. And when they part some moments later, he laughed quietly at the confused and shock expression that was plastered across her beautiful face. It was the last thing he saw before he slipped into darkness.


	24. If Only I Wasn't Me

            The night was warm. Warmer than it had been in the last two weeks. A quiet, soft breeze rustled through the trees surrounding the Institute. High above in a sky colored ebony, little pinpoints of lights danced around a large glowing moon. Every so often there was the hoot from a lone owl as it hunted for its dinner. There was a calmness, a tranquility that never grew boring. It had been nearly a month since Apocalypse had been defeated and buried beneath the mountain in Egypt. Nearly a month since both the Brotherhood and Magneto's lackeys had left the Institute and returned to their own homes. That was where most of the quiet stemmed from.

            New mutants had come and were settling in nicely, at least for now. Problems rarely show themselves right off the bat.

            That's what Rogue was thinking as she stood outside on the little balcony to the room she shared with Kitty. _Give the new ones a little time and there'll be bickering soon enough. The breeze blew over her skin and pushed her hair back from her face; she sighed. She had always enjoyed the nighttime, ever since she could remember. She appreciated it even more since coming north. Everything slowed down once the sun set and sometimes, if the wind blew strong enough, she could almost pretend she was back home in Mississippi. Almost. The scent wasn't quite the same, but she was getting used to it._

            Below her the sound of muffled voices drifted up and, looking down, she watched Scott and Jean as they wandered off together, their hands intertwined. If they hadn't been before, the two were now officially a couple. Funny how nearly having your life and someone you care desperately about nearly stripped away makes you all the more willingly to hold on. Along a similar line, Kurt had gone off to meet Amanda, having a new found determination to win over her parents. At least three members of their group were moderately happy.

            Kitty was miserable and Rogue was beginning to become worried about the younger girl. Just now she was inside, lying on her bed, her back to the balcony door. It had taken her three days to recover from the poison in Angel's wing. When she had emerged from the hospital wing and found that everyone had left, she had sunken into her current state of depression. Rogue had a pretty good idea why. You had to have been blind not to notice that she had Peter had gotten quite close during the whole past ordeal. As far as Rogue knew, there had been no word from him since he had left. And she should know; she hadn't heard anything from Gambit either. Not since the kiss that should never had been possible.

            She had dreams about it, about him. Always hazy and comforting but when she woke up there was a kind of tugging emptiness inside her. It left her feeling more irritated than usual and as a result, people had gone out of their way to avoid her of late. _Stupid swamp rat, she thought to herself angrily, because it was the easier emotion to deal with.__ Ah shoulda cleaned his clock when Ah first thought of it._

            The breeze kicked up again and this time it brought the sweet scent of jasmine to her nose. It brought back to her mind the little white house that she had grown up in, with its hanging baskets out on the front porch. She took a deep breath of it in and frowned. As far as she knew, there wasn't any jasmine planted on the grounds. Slowly she straightened and turned, having no idea of what she would find. Her heart leapt up into her throat when she saw who was standing behind her, his arms full of the lavender colored flower.

            "Cherie. Where y'at?"

            She said nothing, only stared at him with her green eyes unreadable. His charming grin remained in place and he held out the flowers to her.

            "Gambit saw dese and thought de might remind you of home."

            When she still failed to respond and made no move to accept the flowers, his smile faltered a bit. His stomach pitched slightly and his palms sweated with nerves, a first for him. It had been a month since he had seen her; first there had been recovery time and then he had simply put off coming for one reason or another. On the way over he had convinced himself that she would forgive him for it. After all, he was Remy LeBeau, not Scott Summers. Women swooned over him. But now, standing just a few feet away from her, seeing her look at him the way she was, he wasn't nearly as sure of himself. In fact, if she didn't say something soon, he was entertaining the thought of throwing himself onto his knees and begging.

            "Ah, cherie . . . Gambit . . . he . . . well, there was. . ." he began to fumble as the minutes ticked by and the silence remained. He trailed off and stared back at her, not sure if there was anything he could say that would change whatever opinion she now held of him. He didn't know that there was nothing to say because there was no need to change it.

            Silently she walked over to him and lifted a bare hand. For a moment he thought she was going to slap him and he figured he deserved it. But she surprised him. Instead she brought it close to his cheek, as if she wanted to lay it on his face. He could see the struggle on her face though and her fingers trembled as she fought an internal struggle. She wanted to touch him, but was horribly afraid to discover that the kiss had merely been a fluke. That she wouldn't be able to make contact without draining him. Apparently it was a battle she lost for she dropped her eyes away from his and her hand began to lower.

            He caught it with his and her eyes came back up, surprise clear in them. Without hesitation, for he could sense that was important, he lifted her hand to his face and pressed it against his skin firmly. They both stared at each other, each holding their breath and waiting for it to happen. 

But nothing did. With a kind of wonderment, Rogue ran her fingers along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble that he always seemed to have. While his eyes burned down at her, she traced the shape of his face. Her hand slipped behind his head and pulled him down closer to her. Just before their lips met, they took identical little breaths and then pressed their mouths together. Their first kiss had been a brief taste; the second a weary and surprised occurrence. This kiss was something completely different. Not shy or hesitant, or filled with concern over how long it could last. Now there was desire and heart and the powerful feeling that comes when you've been separated from someone you let steal a part of your heart.

            It was a while before they got around to talking.

            When they finally did, Rogue was sitting on the balcony, her lap full of jasmine and Remy sat beside her, one leg dangling over the edge and the fingers of his right hand brushing through her hair. He felt a little drunk and couldn't seem to break contact with her. Suddenly she reached up and took his hand, tangling their fingers together.

            "Are you still with Magneto?" he heard her ask. He nodded.

            "Yeah, cherie."

            "Why? He's not all that much betta than Apocalypse." He felt himself bristle at the slight accusation in her voice.

            "De world ain't jus' all black an' white cherie. Dere be a whole lotta shades of grey an' Magneto's one of 'em."

            Rogue shrugged and looked off trying to tell herself it didn't matter. But she turned back a second later, troubled by the idea of him running errands for the man who was now again their enemy. 

            "You could stay here. Be an X-man. Ah know Storm said she'd vouch for ya," she pressed. Gambit smiled ruefully and shook his head; all his questions about the white haired woman still hadn't been answered. He'd get to it eventually.

            "Gambit, an X-man? Me'be someday, cherie. But not now." He looked her directly in the eyes, hoping he might get her to understand, at least a little bit. "He got things to do first. Not good things, but things dat need to be taken care of." When she shifted away from him, he bit his lip and added, "Cherie got things to do too."

            "Like what?"

            He shrugged and ran a hand over her hair again, ignoring her attempt to bat his hand away. "Like finish high school. An' work on trustin' people enough to tell 'em her name."

            She glared at him. "Ah don't know yer name, swamp rat, do I?"

            Grinning, because he enjoyed it when she was annoyed, Gambit shook his head and they sat in silence again for a moment or two. Then he continued. "Gambit be back, cherie. Je promets. (I promise.)" When she didn't respond, he shrugged again and slipped over the edge of the balcony, falling into darkness. Rogue whipped her head around just in time to see him land with all the grace of large, sleek hunting cat. He turned around and moonlight fell over him, illuminating the wink and salute he gave her. She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling.

            "It's Remy, cherie. Remy LeBeau."

            Then he took off silently into the night, his coat flapping behind him. As she watched him disappeared, Rogue wondered if he would be back. Then she shook her head and buried her face in her flowers.

            He'd be back. 

            Sighing, she stood up and started inside, wondering how she was going to keep the flowers hidden from Kitty. That's when she noticed the folded slip of paper lying on the ground near the door. Bending down, she picked it up and saw that it had Kitty's name scrawled across it in handwriting she didn't recognize. Chances were Remy had dropped it, but it didn't look like the way she imagined he would write. Considering, she twirled the note between her fingers and pushed opened the balcony door. She had a fairly good idea who it was from and figured it was something her roommate would want to read.

            Crouching up high in the boughs of a nearby tree, Lance Alvers waited for the door to slide shut before he made his way down to the ground. Then he started on the long walk back to the Brotherhood house. 

*******

            Lights. And if you would maestro, cue the music please.

            _            My Friends Over You by New Found Glory_


End file.
